


Tenkai

by Kaiyou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chasing Truth sidestory, Combat, Established Relationship, Growing into open relationship, KuroKen main relationship, M/M, Sign Language, Swordplay, scifi, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: Tenkai: development, evolution, progressing, unfolding.Kuroo and Kenma have been together for years, growing toward each other ever since Kuroo first rescued Kenma from an alleyway when they were kids. Kenma is more than happy with their relationship, but one of his friends is confused why he doesn't mind that Kuroo and Yaku seem to be getting rather close as well - and Fukunaga also seems to have an interest in how things are developing.





	1. Question

**Author's Note:**

> OK so this is a Chasing Truth sidestory, but it can probably be read on its own? It's set in the past, prior to Chasing Truth.

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

Kenma glanced up from his handheld and looked at Inuoka. “Hmm?”

Inuoka just waved his hand at the mats in the gym in front of them where most of their team members were engaged in hand to hand combat.

Furrowing his brow, Kenma tried to figure out what he might be referring to. Tora and Kai were standing closely together, Tora rubbing the back of his neck with a towel while Kai talked intently to him about the latest model of energy pistol. Naoi was correcting Shibayama’s posture off to the side, and Kuroo and Yaku were grappling in the center mat.

Kuroo appeared to be enjoying himself quite a bit.

Still, Kenma wasn’t quite sure what Inuoka meant. He glanced over at Fukunaga to see if he had any idea, but his friend just shrugged. So he sighed and turned back to Inuoka. “Does what bother me?” he asked.

“You and Kuroo are together, right? I mean, um -”

“Yes,” Kenma said, brow furrowing. True, their relationship had only turned sexual a few years prior, but they’d been together basically as long as they’d known each other. Kenma couldn’t actually imagine not being together with Kuroo if he was honest.

Kuroo was his best friend. He was the man who made sure Kenma remembered to eat and who dragged him to bed when he was too exhausted to remember the way himself. Kuroo kept him grounded. Kuroo was home.

“Doesn’t it bother you when he and Yaku get all handsy with each other like that?” Inuoka asked. “They’re like one step away from giving each other a handjob at this point, I think.”

Kenma crinkled up his nose. In his experience, what Yaku and Kuroo were doing was actually many steps away from mutual handjobs. Tilting his head to the side, he tried to see what Inuoka was seeing. It was obvious that Kuroo was flirting with Yaku, and judging from the angry heat in the other's eyes that the attraction was mutual. This wasn’t exactly news though. Kuroo and Yaku had been dancing around each other since they’d met.

“Why would it bother me?” Kenma asked, registering the fact that Fukunaga’s hands had stilled at the question, where before, they’d been dancing over the patterns on his shorts.

“Well, because you’re - he’s yours, right? Your boyfriend, or lover, or -”

“Kuroo is Kuroo’s,” Kenma said.

“You’re ok with him flirting with Yaku?”

“Yes?” Kenma asked. Kuroo was smiling, Kuroo was happy, so what was there to be bothered by?

“But what if he and Yaku decide to do more than flirt?”

“What if they do?”

“Won’t that bother you? If he’s cheating on you?”

Kenma frowned again, and noticed that Kuroo had faltered, looking over at him. Yaku took advantage of his distraction, flipping Kuroo and pinning him to the mat. Kuroo didn’t seem to care, though, just tapped out and murmured something to Yaku before getting up and starting towards Kenma.

“If I know about it,” Kenma asked, “how is it cheating?”

Inuoka stared at him a minute. “I -”

“Is everything alright, Kenma?” Kuroo asked, hands on his knees as he crouched down, making sure he was on eye-level with Kenma.

Kenma considered asking him outright about the situation with Yaku but decided that it was probably one of those things Kuroo would prefer to discuss in private. He just shrugged and nodded, turning to Fukunaga. “I’m going to go talk with Kuroo for a bit, is that ok? We can practice later.”

Fukunaga nodded, studying his face carefully. Something about the look seemed more complicated than normal, but Kenma didn’t really have time to process it. Kuroo was tugging at his hand. He was probably worried - which made Kenma annoyed at Inuoka, though he realized that was a silly reaction to have.

Still, if Inuoka hadn’t asked the question, Kuroo wouldn’t be dragging Kenma out into the hall and down to the alcove near the garden door before turning and pressing the back of his hand against Kenma’s forehead.

“Are you ok? You looked upset.” Kuroo asked. “Did you get hurt, is your stomach upset, do you have a headache -”

“I’m fine, Kuro,” Kenma muttered, pushing the hand away. Frowning, he leaned back against the wall and looked up, trying to figure out the words to use to explain exactly why he’d been frowning at that particular moment in time.

“What is it, then? Did I - did I do something?”

The shadow of guilt on Kuroo’s face bothered Kenma enough that he found himself frowning again. That just made Kuroo cringe, though.

“I was right - it’s me, isn’t it? Is it because I -”

“It’s not,” Kenma muttered.

“It is, I know it -”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

Huffing, Kenma contemplating kicking Kuroo’s shin. Probably not the most effective way of convincing Kuroo that he hadn’t upset him, though. It made him angry again that Inuoka's comments had led to Kuroo doubting himself, because it seemed like that was what was going on. Frowning, Kenma decided to just put his fingers against Kuroo’s mouth, stopping any more words until he figured out what to say.

That took more than a minute.

It was slightly distracting to have Kuroo’s lips pressing against his fingers in little kisses. He wouldn’t’ve minded, except that they seemed to be apologetic kisses as well, and Kuroo had nothing to be sorry for.

Finally, Kenma said, “Do you want to have sex with Yaku?”

“What?” Kuroo asked, recoiling slightly and blushing. “Why would you think that? I mean - ugh - you know I -”

“Because you almost had your hand down his pants?” Kenma asked, some part of him realizing that might not be the most effective way to put Kuroo at ease when his boyfriend covered his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry!” Kuroo said. “I didn’t mean - it was just the heat of the moment -”

Huffing, Kenma asked, “Why are you sorry?”

Kuroo blinked at him. “What?”

“I mean, ugh.”

Frustrating. This was all so frustrating. Kenma closed his eyes and tried to find that place where he could interpret things in a way that made sense to other people. Kuroo wasn’t normally other people, though, which made it harder. “I don’t understand why you’d be sorry for that.”

“Um,” said Kuroo, “because - because I love you? Because you’re the center of my world, and I don’t want you to ever doubt how important you are to me?”

“Why would you wanting to fuck Yaku make any difference to how you feel about me?” Kenma asked, nose wrinkling. “Unless it does?”

“What? Fuck! No! Never, Kenma, you’ve got to believe me,” Kuroo said, kneeling down in front of him.

“You’re being melodramatic again,” Kenma said. That was just the plain truth. He hated it when Kuroo got like this. Knew it was in part because he was secretly terrified that Kenma would disappear, that he’d be all alone. Kuroo still had nightmares about being abandoned. Still, it was annoying, especially because he felt like Kuroo wasn’t seeing him. “Could you actually listen to me instead of assuming you know how I feel right now?”

Kuroo rocked back on his heels like Kenma had kicked him. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, this was such trouble.

“Kenma?” Kuroo asked, looking up at him, worry written all over his face.

“I’m not upset with you, Kuro,” Kenma said, trying not to scowl. “Well, ok, all of this is a little annoying, but - I wasn’t frowning because of you.”

“You weren’t?”

Biting back his frustration, Kenma reminded himself that sometimes Kuroo needed reassurance. A part of him wanted to ask why Kuroo couldn’t just take what he said at face value. Another part was just thankful he seemed to be actually listening. Finally.

“No,” Kenma said. “Inuoka was just pointing out how close you and Yaku were acting and didn’t understand why I wasn’t bothered.”

“You - other people noticed?”

The blush was back, and Kenma just shook his head. “Well, you weren’t exactly being subtle about it,” he said.

“Oh,” said Kuroo, deflating and leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

Huffing, Kenma sat as well, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees. “I just didn’t get what the big deal was,” he muttered, studying the woodgrain of the hall floor. It was shiny from years of being polished by the socks of Nekoma students. He wondered if they’d had to deal with this much drama in their own lives.

“I just didn’t get what the big deal was,” he muttered, studying the woodgrain of the hall floor. It was shiny from years of being polished by the socks of Nekoma students. He wondered if they’d had to deal with this much drama in their own lives.

“You really don’t mind?” Kuroo asked after a bit, voice quiet.

Kenma shook his head, sighing deeply as he twitched his toes against the wood. “Why would I mind?” he murmured. “You’re my home, and I’m your home. Unless that’s going to change -”

“Never!” Kuroo said.

“Well yeah. So yeah, that’s not going to change, so why should I care that you and Yaku like having your hands all over each other? It makes you happy, after all.”

Kuroo stared at him.

Kuroo kept staring at him.

Wrinkling his nose, Kenma asked, “Is it that weird?”

Blinking, Kuroo said, “Eh? Uh, no, no. I guess not.”

It didn’t feel like he felt like that, but maybe it was something he’d been taught. Kenma looked to the side. He didn’t like being stared at most of the time, even by Kuroo. Still, he’d give it to him, if Kuroo believed him in the end.

“I just - you love getting hands-on with people,” Kenma muttered. “And you and Yaku are always teasing each other. Other people too, I’ve noticed - it makes you light up like you feel alive. I like seeing you smile like that. Like you’re comfortable in your own skin. Like you’re confident. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to think twice about talking with other people, or being friends with them, or wrestling or hugging or anything, why would I care about sex? As long as I know about it, I guess.”

Kuroo pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. “I’ve never - it’s never gone beyond flirting, you know? And we haven’t called it that or anything,” he said. “I didn’t even think - I guess I thought it was all just harmless, all in my head.”

“It is harmless,” Kenma said, shrugging. “Well, I mean, it doesn’t hurt me.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo murmured, a wealth of emotion in that word.

“I mean, Yaku knows how you feel about me, so it’s not hurting him either, right? You two are just friends. You don’t feel about him like you do about me, do you?”

He wasn’t altogether sure that would matter, really. No. It wouldn’t. If it changed how Kuroo felt about him - oh, there was a slight fear there, but it was easily balanced by the bone-deep knowledge that he and Kuroo would always be together soul-deep, even if sometimes Kuroo worried about it. That was just the shape of reality in their world. It would never change.

“No one is like you to me,” Kuroo said, dead serious as he looked at Kenma.

It soothed the last vestiges of the fear, and he took in a breath, nodding to Kuroo. Pursing his lips, he rocked forward, wanting to touch his lover again. Not for reassurance, exactly, more because some things were good to say with touch as well as with words.

Kuroo gave a slight nod, shoulders relaxing.

Some things, they didn’t need words for.

Smiling briefly he crawled the few feet over to Kuroo and snuggled against his side, inhaling the scent that was all Kuroo. There was the faintest whiff of Yaku there as well, but it was comforting in his own way. After all, Yaku was one of his oldest and best friends.

Sliding an arm around Kuroo’s waist, Kenma rested his head against his chest. “I don’t mind if you like him,” Kenma said, feeling Kuroo’s fingers tracing over his shoulder and down his arm. “As long as we’re always honest with each other. That’s the biggest thing, I think. I don’t doubt you though, Kuroo. I know you.”

“I’d never betray you,” Kuroo whispered, kissing the top of his head. “I couldn’t bear hurting you. I’d cut my own arm off first.”

“Melodramatic again,” Kenma whispered. “I prefer you with all body parts intact if it’s all the same to you.”

Kuroo laughed, soft and low, stretching his legs out and pulling Kenma into his lap properly. There were advantages to having a boyfriend with long legs, after all.

There were also advantages to having a boyfriend who accepted your quirks, who knew when you were being truthful, and who listened. Maybe not at first, but eventually.

And, to having a boyfriend who didn’t mind to cuddle when you were in the mood.

In the end, it was Tora who interrupted their moment together, running down the hall and almost tripping over Kuroo’s long legs. That led to Kuroo yelling, and Tora telling some story about an escaped lizard, and more shenanigans that were a part of what had become Kenma’s normal everyday life.

In the end, they were fine.

~~~

The most annoying thing the next few days was that Yaku seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, like he too was worried he’d upset Kenma. That led to Kenma being cold to Inuoka. He didn’t really care that, as Kuroo said, Inuoka was just looking out for him. Didn’t care that Inuoka hadn’t meant to upset him or anyone else.

The point was that he had, and that was enough to piss Kenma off.

At least for a few days.

How Kenma felt shouldn’t’ve upset any of them that much in his estimation. The whole thing got his back up enough that he took to eating in the garden on some days, curled up in the back next to the koi pond underneath the willow. There, the only company he had to worry about were the cats, and they reacted to his mood about the same way he wished everyone else would - by ignoring it.

Nibbling an apple, Kenma contemplated how to resolve things.

Ideally, Kuroo and Yaku would just take some time to figure out how they felt about each other, and then fuck. That was a secondary motivation for him to come out here by himself. He’d told Kuroo in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want his company right now. Luckily, Kuroo knew him well enough to understand that sometimes he just wanted alone time.

He could text him the codeword if he actually needed him. Before then, Kenma wanted to be left alone.

Footsteps crunched on the path beyond the tree, and Kenma tensed up. His heart started beating faster. He was worried it was Inuoka trying to track him down to apologize, or Yaku, or -

The willow branches parted, revealing someone entirely different.

Kenma relaxed.

To be honest, there were probably only two people on the planet who could have entered his presence that wouldn’t annoy him at this moment. One was Nekomata - who would only get involved if he thought there was an issue, anyways.

The other was Fukunaga.

Fukunaga lifted his hand palm up and watched Kenma carefully.

Kenma nodded, turning back toward the pond to watch the koi. He heard Fukunaga walk up behind him, saw him crouch down out of the corner of his eye. Felt the weight of Fukunaga’s hand on his shoulder. It didn’t bother him, though.

Then again, Fukunaga wasn’t exactly the type to bother him.

He was Kenma’s oldest friend other than Kuroo - well, Fukunaga and Tora both, but Tora was in a different class of friend. The three of them had been trained together as a group. Well, when they were trained apart from everyone else, like the time that Naoi had taken the three of them on a flight to the woods in the north of their district and taught them survival skills. Kenma had felt like dying at the time. Naoi had taken away all of his electronics, and they’d been forced to carry huge backpacks for far too long. Fukunaga and Tora were both pure Dikastis, so they didn’t have the stamina issues Kenma did. Tora had actually loved the outdoors. And it wasn’t that Kenma didn’t, exactly - especially when Fukunaga had taught him how to sit quietly and watch the deer wander past them through the trees - but he needed his technology. It was as much a part of him as the fighting.

He’d made it through, though. They all had, and in truth, he was closer to the other two because of it. Later, Kuroo had comforted him, let him know that he’d had to do the same thing with Kai and Yaku the previous year. It was still annoying, and Kenma had a scar on the back of his arm from a branch he’d fallen into. Would he trade what he’d learned, thought?

Probably not.

Fukunaga settled in next to him, hands dancing in his lap in the silent language the two of them used when Fukunaga didn’t want to speak. Which was almost always, but Kenma was fine with that. It wasn’t like Fukunaga wasn’t communicating with him, after all. The nice thing was that Kenma could choose whether or not he was ready to interact without being forced into it.

Now, Fukunaga was just making a basic inquiry as to how Kenma was doing.

Kenma pondered, marveling for a moment how much less intrusive the question was when Fukunaga asked it than when someone spoke or texted him. It gave him space to think.

“They look at me too much,” Kenma whispered, noticing that Fukunaga’s fingers curled into light fists at that, then relaxed. “No, not like that. It’s not the thing where I want to just fade away, or be like those insects we saw in the woods that looked like sticks. It’s more - I think it’s that this time they’re looking, but they aren’t seeing me.”

Fukunaga let out a long breath at that, fingers moving in a way that let Kenma know he’d heard him, let him know he was listening. Fukunaga was good at listening. Some might have said it was because he didn’t speak, but Kenma knew better. There were plenty of people Fukunaga didn’t listen to - Lev, for instance. Or, well, listened to selectively.

Lips twitching at that thought, Kenma continued, “It’s like they’re worried I’m going to break or something. I mean, I’m not weaker than anyone, right?”

Snorting at that, Fukunaga shook his head. _Different_ , he signed. but not weak.

“Yeah, exactly. I mean, opponents think I am. Think I’m slow, and weak, and not athletic - and I don’t have as much stamina as the rest of you, and I’d rather curl up and work on my code than wrestle, sure, but I know what I’m doing.”

Anyone who thought otherwise was just someone that underestimated him - often to their own detriment.

“And the team knows that, right? Inuoka knows exactly what I’m capable of, and I know he respects me when it comes to fighting and missions. So why do they think I’m so weak that I’d break just because Kuroo and Yaku like each other?”

Making a soft noise, Fukunaga slashed his hand through the air.

“Then what is it, then? First Inuoka, now Yaku - I mean, hell, even Kuroo freaked out. He gets it now, I think, or says that he does, but -”

Fukunaga’s hands slid one over the other then opened up, fingers expanding.

“What? No. I’m not hiding.”

That annoyed him again, made him start to curl away.

Shaking his head, Fukunaga raised his hands, then tapped at his forehead. Oh. Well. Maybe.

“I don’t lie, though,” Kenma said. “It’s too much effort. And I mean - do they really think that Kuroo would leave me? Or that I would leave him? We were together before we even came to Nekoma. Hell, half the time I can barely get him to leave me alone, and the rest of you knew he was mooning over me before I even realized what romance was, much less sex. I know he can be a little loud sometimes, but have you ever known him to flake out on something he’s committed to? Especially a relationship?”

Huffing in amusement, Fukunaga tilted his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his handheld.

Time for actual talking, then.

Kenma pulled out his as well, watching as Fukunaga’s fingers flew across the screen, swiping a stream of lights through the keypad.

 _Most of us don’t know how romance or relationships work_ he typed. _Inu, the rest of us, all we know is the stories. Not like most of us had parents to watch._

It wasn’t what Kenma had expected. Wasn’t something he’d actually thought about.

It was true, though - for all of them except maybe Yaku and Tora and Lev, and they were orphans in the end like the rest of them. Well, Yaku had Nekomata, but his parents had died in the wars just like Kuroo’s mom.

Kenma didn’t think about it all that often because Kuroo was his family. He couldn’t remember much of the years before Kuroo had found him in that alleyway, though Nekomata had helped him find his lineage when he joined Nekoma. Still, he had a hard time grasping the concept of parents. He hadn’t even really thought that other people would use them to model relationships on.

As usual, Fukunaga’s words made him think about what had happened in a new way. Inuoka didn’t talk much about his family life before Nekoma. Kenma thought he’d lived in a group home. He was one of the happier people in their group, more - well - more innocent.

Maybe he wasn’t quite as innocent as he seemed. Maybe he’d seen someone get hurt before because of cheating. Maybe -

Kenma didn’t know, and there were a million possible reasons that came to mind once he opened the door to them. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that there was a reason why he’d said it, and it wasn’t because Inuoka had wanted to upset everyone. Even Kenma could be generous enough to admit that.

“Ok,” Kenma said, frowning.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to think that thought all the way to its conclusion, but he’d started. He’d get there. It would probably involve some way of interacting with Inuoka to let him know he wasn’t actually mad at him, but that could wait.

Right now, all he needed to do was be.

Fukunaga nodded, more likely in response to his words than his thought. Maybe in response to Kenma’s body language; Fukunaga was good at reading that. The other man slid his handheld back into his pants then splayed one hand out curiously, arranging the fingers of his other hand in the gestured he’d devised that somewhat replicated Kuroo’s bedhead.

It always made Kenma snort. Kuroo had never caught onto Fukunaga’s sign language, at least the more unique bits. That was probably a good thing. It meant that he and Kenma could have conversations about Kuroo right in front of him and Kuroo never had a clue. The same was true for most of their teammates; only Tora knew the language inside and out like they did. It was another thing that helped Kenma feel close to his friends.

“Kuroo’s fine,” Kenma said, leaning closer to Fukunaga’s shoulder so that he could get a better look at his hands as they moved. “Yes, we talked. He thought I was upset with him - no, not at all. Well, he did get a little dramatic on me, but we fixed that. Hmm? Yeah. I confronted him about Yaku - no, of course, I’m not upset about it, I just wish they’d stop dancing around each other and fuck already. Or something. What?”

Fukunaga was tapping his fingertips together in a gesture that didn’t really mean anything in sign. It just meant he was thinking. Then he was curling his hands into each other, like he didn’t want Kenma to know things that might unconsciously slip out.

Sitting up, Kenma looked at Fukunaga’s face. His friend was glancing away toward the koi. Anxiety pricked through Kenma at that, fear that he’d somehow offended Fukunaga, or that Fukunaga was judging him.

There was something -

Some distance, when Fukunaga looked at him again. Something appraising in his look. It threw Kenma off-balance. It didn’t really seem negative, just -

Fukunaga lifted his hand and tapped his lips with the tips of two fingers, tilting his head to the side.

“I ate,” Kenma said, feeling like his friend was dragging him over a chasm before letting him see the bottom. He wanted to know - wanted to understand everything that had been in Fukunaga’s gaze, but he didn’t get it. “You’re hungry?”

Nodding, Fukunaga lifted an eyebrow.

Kenma didn’t really want to leave this space. It was quiet and safe. Fukunaga was here too, which made it even safer - but now there was this nodule of uncertainty in him, disturbing his calm. It was a puzzle.

He thought about it for a moment, crinkled up his nose, and sighed

“I guess,” he finally said.

Fukunaga held the branches out of the way as Kenma crawled out of the space, steeling himself as he prepared to face his friends again.


	2. Challenge

Inuoka was relieved to see him, relieved and apologetic. He stopped when Kuroo intervened though, dragging Kenma into his lap and giving Inuoka a smile that made it clear that Kuroo wasn’t mad at him. Then Tora was there teasing Inuoka while glancing between Fukunaga and Kenma, and things were alright again.

Well, Yaku was still on edge, and Lev was annoyingly clueless, but Kai distracted him. 

It was pretty easy to tell that Kuroo and Yaku still hadn’t progressed, though. 

That bothered Kenma a little bit, but it was only one of the things. Everything in his life felt up in the air now. Things with Kuroo were fine but still a little on edge, and now Fukunaga was acting weird. It reminded Kenma of how strange things had been back before he’d walked in on Kuroo jacking off to something on his handheld and how Kuroo had been utterly mortified, back before they’d gotten together. Of course, back then all Kenma had needed to do was hack Kuroo’s handheld and find out that Kuroo had been looking at one of his pictures at the time. It had been surprising, then amusing, then appealing, and all Kenma had needed to do to solve the situation was push Kuroo down and kiss him senseless.

It had the added benefit of learning he was rather fond of panting, gasping, speechless Kuroo. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t just drag Kuroo and Yaku into a room and push their heads together. Well, he could but -

That didn’t feel right this time.

It made him grumpy, and grumbly, and fortunately, Kuroo was smart enough to understand that fussing over Kenma to get him to eat was actually a welcome distraction this time. It was normal enough that everyone else started to calm down as well, Yaku smiling at Kenma in a way that seemed to say things were ok.

That was good.

~~~

Later, Kenma chanced upon Yaku while he was folding clothes. 

“Yaku?”

“Eh?” Yaku said, pushing a pile of shirts onto the floor before he turned around, eyes wide. “Ah, Kenma.”

There was that shadow of guilt on his face, the one that made Kenma annoyed. Yaku wasn’t Kuroo, though. Kenma didn’t expect him to automatically understand things.

Maybe he shouldn’t expect Kuroo to either - 

Well, that was a thought for another time.

Tilting his head, Kenma thought about what he wanted to say. It was scary, suddenly. Yaku was important, and he didn’t want to mess this up - didn’t want to get in the middle of something that didn’t actually feel like his business, even if it did involve Kuroo. But in a way, he felt like he needed to make sure Yaku knew he wasn’t standing in the way of anything, and say it in a way that made that clear without being - 

Fuck.

“I’m not worried about Kuroo,” Kenma said.

From the look on Yaku’s face, that hadn’t made a whole lot of sense. 

Huffing, Kenma tried again. “Kuroo and I will always be - that’s not going to change.”

Understanding seemed to dawn on Yaku’s face. “I know, Kenma,” he said. “I’m not - I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to -”

Ok, again, fuck. “No, that’s not what I meant,” Kenma murmured, looking to the side. His ears were burning. He couldn’t do this. Crap. “I mean, it’s ok. It’s ok with me. I’m fine, just -”

“What?” Yaku asked, looking more confused than ever.

“Just - uh - talk to Kuroo, if you want to talk to Kuroo I guess, but - I’m fine. I - uh, I’ll talk to you later.”

Turning, Kenma fled, stomach cramping as he fled to the safety of the garden. That had been horrible. He was not cut out for this stuff. Communication was hard.

Hiding his face in his hands, Kenma listened to the soft sound of insects and the occasional splash of the koi surfacing in the pond. One of the cats came and curled up by his leg, nuzzling his thigh and demanding pets.

Pets, he could do.

Pets were easier than whatever he’d just tried to do with Yaku. Shit.

Well, hopefully, Kuroo could sort it all out.

Sighing, he curled up, snuggling the cat for warmth and letting himself doze a bit. Of course, it was cool enough at night now that his nose was cold by the time Kuroo finally found him. That meant Kuroo was none too happy and insisted on rubbing his ears and his fingers and his nose to make sure Kenma was warmed up properly once they were back in their room.

“Did you talk to Yaku?” Kenma asked, trying to distract Kuroo from all the unnecessary fussing.

“About what?” Kuroo murmured, brushing his fingers through Kenma’s hair before tugging at his jacket. “Come on, you’ll be more comfortable with this off once you’re under the covers.”

It still felt illogical to be removing clothing when he was cold, but Kenma knew Kuroo was probably right. Still, he wasn’t happy about it, even though Kuroo was quick to tug the covers up and let him shimmy out of his other clothes without leaving the warmth of the blanket. “About things, you know. Uh. I didn’t know if he had talked to you.”

“Oh,” Kuroo muttered, pulling Kenma’s clothes out from under the covers and tossing them to the side, preoccupied look on his face. “Uh, no. We haven’t, uh, talked.”

Kenma nodded, scooting over as Kuroo slid in next to him, giving him a measuring look. 

“What about you?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma flushed, looking to the side. “I talked to him a little bit. I wasn’t sure what to say though.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah, I hope that’s ok? Um -”

“Hey, we already agreed, you know? I just didn’t expect - wait. You’re talking about Yaku, aren’t you.”

“Well, yeah?” Kenma asked, trying to understand the series of looks that crossed Kuroo’s face. Soon enough he decided that his face was too far away to really read, and tugged him down closer under the covers. Kenma knew that it wasn’t actually as cold as his body was trying to tell him it was, but he knew Kuroo wouldn’t deny him cuddles either way, even if Kenma would probably end up wiggling away after only a few minutes.

“You talked to Yaku about me?” Kuroo asked, hands sliding up and down Kenma’s sides in a way that had Kenma start to relax.

Kuroo didn’t sound mad. Puzzled, maybe, but not mad. That was good. 

“It went - I didn’t know what to say,” Kenma muttered. “But I didn’t want him thinking I was jealous or anything. I wanted him to know I was ok with things.”

“Wow,” Kuroo said, huffing against the back of his neck. “Is it - is it that easy?”

Scowling, Kenma twisted in Kuroo’s arms and looked up at him. “What do you mean?” It hadn’t been easy at all. Kuroo knew he hated that type of talking, even when it was just talking to Kuroo. Talking to anyone else, even an old friend like Yaku - the thought was terrifying, the reality had been worse.

“Shh,” Kuroo murmured, brushing Kenma’s hair back from his forehead. “I’ve just been thinking. About what it would be like to know someone else had seen you, you know - naked, vulnerable. Or to know they know what you’re like when you get all, um.”

Kuroo glanced away at that. Kenma couldn’t see in the darkness, but he would be willing to bet that his lover was blushing. 

Frowning, Kenma pushed Kuroo onto his back and crawled onto him, looking down. 

“First,” Kenma said, “this is about you, not me.” Though if all was fair, he supposed it could be about him at some point. He just had a hard time thinking of anyone he’d actually be comfortable enough to be intimate with other than Kuroo, much less anyone he’d want like this.

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, hands sliding up Kenma’s thighs and cupping his ass with an easy familiarity. His dark eyes were thoughtful as he looked up, and Kenma felt like there was more he wasn’t saying. 

It made Kenma uncomfortable again, and he frowned, curling his hands around Kuroo’s shoulders. “Second, some things are just ours. They’re not just you and not just me, they’re what happens when we’re together.” 

He hummed, tilting his head to the side as he thought. Sex was such a small part of everything he had with Kuroo. An important part, a part he wouldn’t willingly give up, but there was more. This easy physicality they shared. Baths. Feeding each other. Picking up each other’s clothes. Taking care of each other when they were sick. The way Kuroo knew how to find him when he was lost, the way he was always attuned to what Kenma was doing even when they were apart. Kenma was the same way with Kuroo, honestly, even if he didn’t show it in the same way. Kuroo called Kenma his heart, but really, Kuroo’s love was like oxygen or gravity. It was the only thing Kenma really trusted in without any reservation. 

Smiling, Kuroo slid a hand up Kenma’s back and pulled him down into a kiss. 

“Alright,” Kuroo said, breaking the kiss and hugging Kenma close to him. 

This was enough. This, here, was what he’d been wanting ever since he’d talked to Yaku, maybe even before that. Kuroo was home to him, home and breath and peace and all the things he could never find words. It gave him a space to think about the idea of Yaku and Kuroo together. Oddly enough, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. 

“I think Yaku would be good for you,” Kenma whispered.

Kuroo hummed a question, hands stroking down Kenma’s back.

Kenma rubbed his face against Kuroo’s neck, absently thinking he was acting like one of the cats. That was alright. 

“You fight with him in a way we don’t fight,” Kenma continued. “Like a knife and a sharpening stone. You’re always humming with energy afterward, even when the two of you are actually arguing. But you hold yourself back. Can you imagine what you could do to him if you actually won one of those fights?”

Sucking in a breath, Kuroo shifted beneath him. “Kenma!” he said, voice strangled. 

It wasn’t an unexpected reaction. What was surprising was how Kenma felt about it. His mind sharpened, and he tilted his hips. Feeling vaguely traitorous, he said, “I bet he can get all soft if you can get him to actually give in. And you two are always so good at working together. You don’t even need to talk, things just happen. Plus he spends so much time supporting everyone else and carrying around all the stress of the family, don’t you think it would be good for someone to take care of him?”

Kuroo’s hands tightened on his back. He was silent for a few moments, but Kenma knew him enough to know that Kuroo’s mind was anything but quiet. It still felt a bit wrong to be talking about Yaku like this, but he figured if it helped encourage Kuroo to actually act it would be alright. It was obvious Yaku was attracted to him, after all.

“Do you want to be involved?” Kuroo asked suddenly. 

Kenma paused his train of thought and examined that idea. “Not right now,” he said, feeling Kuroo nod and pat his ass lightly. “No, I think - I want it to be for the two of you? Just to explore this idea?”

“Ok,” Kuroo said.

It was something that Kenma hadn't considered, the two of them being involved with someone else together. It wasn't a bad idea really; he was fairly certain if he thought about it more he could think of some things he would like about it. Watching, even. 

But this wasn't so much about finding new ways to have sex as it was allowing Kuroo and Yaku's relationship to develop in a way that benefited them both. Well, and letting Kuroo find out where his own limits were. 

It just felt right.

"You are too good to me," Kuroo said. "It leaves me in awe sometimes, how much you trust me."

"Why wouldn't I trust you?" Kenma said, kissing his neck right below the ear. "You are Kuro."

"Your Kuroo," Kuroo murmured, hands tracing his skin in a way that made Kenma feel sleepy.

He didn't answer, just hummed softly and considered if he wanted to sleep on Kuroo's chest or roll off to the side. Either way, he'd probably end up curled around him in the morning, the two of them tangled up like kittens. They'd done that forever, after all. It wouldn't change. 

Kuroo and he wouldn't change.

"I'm going to sleep," Kenma said, figuring they had talked enough for now.

"Alright. Oh, I forgot to tell you, you're scheduled for a mission in the morning. Nothing major, I think just an exhibition match. Fukunaga will be paired with you."

That was good. Apart from Kuroo, he enjoyed being paired with Fukunaga and Tora the best. They'd been sticking him with Lev lately and it drove him nuts. 

"Just for the day, I hope?" 

"Yes."

That was fine then.

Sighing contentedly, he slid to the side, curling a leg around Kuroo's hip as he turned as well. Yes, this was good.

"Night, kitten," Kuroo whispered, nuzzling his hair.

Kenma just nodded and fell into sleep.

~~~

When they got off the train in the morning, it was obvious that what they’d been signed up for was not a simple exhibition match. Kuroo was up front with Yaku meeting the guards ready to take them to the stadium, so he couldn’t be back with Kenma and Fukunaga. There was a press of people in the main body of the station. A phalanx of bodies dressed in gold was being given a wide berth by Dikastis natives, and some of the guards scattered throughout the crowd had the distinctive uniform of the Dikastis high family’s guard.

There was only one member of the high family that they would be guarding now. Only one member that didn’t have a death warrant hanging over his head.

Koharu Ichitaka.

From the gold uniforms, it was obvious he was here with the Nazeris, the head family of the Dynami tribe. The sight made Kenma freeze, fingers clutching Fukunaga's sleeve. He was nothing, no one, a half-breed street rat, there was no way he should even be seen by Ichitaka-sama in passing let alone compete in front of him. What was Nekomata thinking? Kenma wasn't near good enough to represent Nekoma here. Maybe Kuroo and Yaku would enter too; their teamwork was excellent when they weren't at each other's throats.

Fukunaga's fingers drummed against Kenma's arm. 

_Relax. Relax._

_I will be with you._

Kenma took a breath. 

It would be fine. Realistically, they probably were both entered as pairs. It was possible the exhibition would involve some challenges that were uniquely suited to Kenma's skill set too. Fukunaga had more than enough stamina for both of them, stamina and power.

It was still nerve-wracking. Ichitaka only rarely spent time in Dikastis lands since the massacre. He had been visiting Brendan Nazeri the night an assassin broke into the Ichitaka compound, killing everyone. 

The assassin was the only other surviving member of the high family, Ichitaka’s cousin Ryousuke. No one knew where he was now. To the tribe’s great shame, Ichitaka didn’t trust Dikastis security to keep him safe, so he spent the majority of his time with the Nazeri’s in Dynami territory.

Kenma had overheard Nekomata criticize this at times, normally late at night. The truth was that none of the elder leaders appreciated the fact that their young leader was effectively under the control of another tribe. Still, the bare truth was that while Dikastis were better warriors, Dynami had the advantage in that Ryousuke could not attack them. He might be a murderous psychopath, but he still had nanites just like everyone else.

Still, Nekomata and the others had speculated that they could get guards from other tribes to provide a buffer zone while Ichitaka took up residency back in Dikastis territory. Maybe this exhibition was a part of their strategy to make that happen - a way to prove to Ichitaka that his people could protect him, could be more for him than just resources to help him pay his portion of the tribute to Kingdomtide. 

If Kenma could be a part of making that happen, he would.

He owed Nekomata that much, and more.

Fukunaga’s fingers turned in silent question.

Nodding, Kenma said, “I’m ok.”

Kuroo glanced back, assessing him before glancing up at Fukunaga. Then he turned away. Evidently, he was satisfied with whatever he saw.

Steeling himself, Kenma followed them out and past the guards to the waiting room, going over the instructions for the exhibition. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much. Kenma hated going into situations blind, though at least he was relatively sure there were no serious risks in this match.

Probably.

With Ichitaka in residence, though, he had the feeling that everyone else would be doing their best to show the Lord that his people were reliable, and some might even be jockeying for a position in the high family’s guard. That made would make things unpredictable.

Fukunaga’s gaze was almost a weight on the top of Kenma’s hair. Glancing up, he saw the calm assurance in his partner’s eyes. It grounded him, let him breathe even as a part of him was still going a million miles an hour with worry. But he didn’t need to worry. Even if things were unpredictable, he wasn’t alone. He’d never have quite the same seamless teamwork with Fukunaga as he had with Kuroo, but what they had was still almost perfect.

It let Kenma give Fukunaga a rare smile as they climbed the steps toward the arena entrance, waiting along with fifty other teams to enter the competition. Kenma tugged on his helmet and checked his gloves and body armor. The mesh at his fingertips was thin enough to let him interact with electronics if he needed, and the organizers had provided an armband with a screen that would show their objectives. They weren’t allowing voice communication between teammates, but to Kenma, that was an advantage. All he needed to talk to Fukunaga was a clear line of sight.

He was as ready as he could be. 

Adrenaline rushed through him with a steady tingling hum as he watched the lights above the doors, waiting as they counted down to green and opened.


	3. Fight

He had been right. He was ready.

He and Fukunaga were a deadly team as they cut through opponents, racing towards their given objectives. The inside of the arena had been set up to look like the inside of a jungle. That meant there were a million places to ripe for setting up an ambush and a thousand places where the ground could give way and hobble an unwary combatant. Kenma didn’t mind, though. He and the others had spent three months on a planet in an area with a similar ecosystem the year before, helping to combat a group of opportunists who had decided to capitalize on one of the plants in the jungle that had known hallucinogenic properties. It also grew slowly enough that the natives were very careful about harvesting it, trying to make sure to only take enough to allow for seasonal regrowth. It had been nice, that time, to be on a side whose cause Kenma could understand and support. It wasn’t always like that.

The size of the area and thickness of the undergrowth were both points in Kenma’s favor since they couldn’t travel fast enough to challenge his more limited stamina. Still, it was hotter than he liked. Sweat stained his back and underarms, and he could feel it running down the sides of his face beneath his helmet. It was inconsequential, though. 

He glanced down at his armband, humming internally as he calculated the best route. There were only five more teams still in the running at this point of the game, and only two of those teams were on their same objective. He was relatively sure they were ahead of both of them. The jungle was quiet.

Glancing up at Fukunaga, he saw his friend splay out his fingers and then curl them under, twisting his wrist. Kenma nodded, ducking and moving past him toward the edge of a clearing. There was a cement building to one side with a stack of pipes near the base of one wall. Kenma didn’t see a sign of anyone else. Making a motion at Fukunaga, Kenma rushed forward, trusting that his partner would cover him if needed.

A shot hit the ground near his feet and Kenma rolled forward, taking cover behind the pipes. On the other side of the clearing Kenma heard a loud curse. Glancing down at his armband, Kenma saw the lights of one of his enemies go dark. The light for the enemy's partner was still lit, but Kenma trusted that Fukunaga would stalk around and engage them while Kenma got to work. 

Looking around, he saw a door a few feet away with a plate near the edge. Moving close enough to get at the plate would mean exposing himself to anyone who came up through the treeline. Frowning, he glanced down again, noting that another team had passed the prior obstacle and was starting the trek their way. The team behind them had just gone dark. That left two full teams who would be working their way towards this location, plus the one Fukunaga was confronting. There was a risk involved in moving forward.

There was always a risk.

Frowning to himself, Kenma came to a decision, glancing back before slowly moving up to flip the plate open and expose the inner workings. What he saw inside made him smile. There was a coded keypad there as well as a mechanical lock. The mechanical lock was annoying but workable; Nekomata had forced them all to learn to lockpick as a survival skill. The electronic keypad was easy. 

Reaching up, Kenma turned, allowing his fingertips to rest against the keypad inside while he kept an eye on the jungle. This was the point where his Anakris heritage gave him an advantage over the others. A soft whirring sound made him glance up to where a camera was located in the roof of the building, reminding him once again that this was an exhibition fight. It didn’t matter. The only witnesses that mattered would be Alephian, and what he was doing wasn’t something that needed to be hidden from them. Nekomata always made sure to disclose the fact that Kenma was mixed, after all. 

A few Alephians disliked people who displayed mixed gifts, but most of their employers found it to be an advantage. They were the smart ones.

Nothing moved in the trees as Kenma allowed his nanites to connect to the circuitry inside the keypad, focusing most of his attention on communicating with the internal workings of the lock. Hacking was second nature to him. This wasn’t a simple lock, but still, he had almost finished working his way through it when he caught sight of movement in the trees. 

Instantly, he pulled back from the plate, free hand drawing a gun free from its holster. The familiar curl of fingers at the end of Fukunaga’s arm made him relax. Glancing down at the armband, he noticed that the second half of the team closest to him has gone dark.

Efficient as always.

Fukunaga jogged closer to him, and Kenma holstered his gun again, twisting his fingers to catch his partner up and suggest Fukunaga keep watch while Kenma focused on the lock. It didn’t need to be said, not really. They each knew what part they would play in scenarios like this.

Curling his fingers in agreement, Fukunaga stepped back, crouching as he leaned back against the building and watched the treeline. Kenma moved back into position and finished the work with the electronic lock, smiling as he heard a soft hum behind the door go silent.

Then, it was just the mechanical one.

The lock was a tricky thing. Kenma hadn’t seen one like it before, but he’d gleaned some rough specs stored in files inside the electronic lock’s internal computer. Pulling out his picks he selected a couple, resting his fingers against the edge of the lock as he delicately prodded the inner mechanism. All of his attention was focused on the weight of the pins and the sound of tumblers being released one by one. Fukunaga would watch his back. He would get them inside. They would win the competition. It was that simple -

A rain of gunfire sprayed the edge of the building. Kenma didn’t even have a chance to curse as Fukunaga pushed him behind the pipes, twisting and raising up his gun to shoot back at their attackers. 

Fear. Kenma’s heart was pounding. He’d been so hyper-focused on the problem at hand that he’d almost forgotten they were at risk of coming under attack. He’d trusted Fukunaga with everything -

And he had delivered.

Kenma glanced up, feeling like he should be pulling his gun out and helping to support Fukunaga. There wasn’t any room, though. Fukunaga was half-kneeling over his legs, and one of Fukunaga’s hands was on Kenma’s chest keeping him pressed against the ground as the man aimed a series of careful shots at the forest. Kenma looked over toward the lock, frowning at the mess of picks that lay scattered on the ground. Hopefully, the sudden movement hadn’t ruined the progress he’d made so far. 

Shots hit and shattered on the concrete above them, raining down hissing fragments of colored metal that burned into ash in the air. Some were close, but Fukunaga was too quick for any of them. The pressure on Kenma’s legs and chest changed as Fukunaga ducked out of the way, glancing down at Kenma. They watched each other as bullets crashed into the wall. Lights had blinked out on Kenma’s armband but he wasn’t watching them. Fukunaga’s eyes were glowing with the nanites activated in his bloodstream, pulling out the full power of his gifts. There was something swirling in the depths of those eyes, some emotion Kenma didn’t understand. It made him feel like he was falling.

Fukunaga pushed against his chest again and lifted his hand above the pipes, not even looking as he took two more shots. There was a quiet beep from Kenma’s armband and he glanced down.

They were the only team left.

Smiling, Fukunaga pushed up and got out of Kenma’s way.

“Show off,” Kenma grumbled, pulling himself up with shaky arms. His stamina must be getting low already.

Fukunaga just smirked, eyes lighting up with a happiness that took Kenma’s breath away. He wasted a moment of time before shaking his head and gathering up his picks, getting back to work on the lock. Somehow the thought that Fukunaga was watching him was more distracting than the threat of fire from the jungle had been earlier. It confused him, pulled some of his attention off into a train of thought that tried to figure out exactly what was going on.

Still, only a bit of his progress had been ruined by the sudden shift away from the lock. One of his more delicate picks had been bent beyond usefulness, but he had another that was almost as good. Tilting his head, Kenma made the last few movements it took to get all the tumblers to fall into place.

The door clicked, and Fukunaga pulled it open. 

They had won.

~~~

Theirs was one of many competitions that afternoon. Kuroo and Yaku had indeed competed together, though they’d come in second in their heat. Fukunaga and Kenma’s time was excellent, though, and when they met Nekomata later he showered them with praise. All four of them had managed to show off exactly why Nekoma had such an impressive track record. They weren’t the only ones, of course, but many of their opponents were older and more experienced.

Both of those things would come with time.

They waited with the other teams after the competition, snacking on protein-rich foods and watching the people they’d been fighting with earlier that day. Yaku had moved to mingle with the elder’s families, and Kuroo was teasing the women who had beat them. He laughed at something the shorter woman said, slapping his leg and pointing in the air as he answered back. 

Happy. Kuroo was happy. As always, it put Kenma at ease.

A black-clad woman pulled Nekomata’s attention away for a while, allowing Kenma to get a glimpse at the people seated the dais at the front of the room. There was Ichitaka, hair short and eyes sharp. To Kenma's surprise, Ichitaka appeared to be about his height. The man next to him was several centimeters taller, with light brown hair. Brandon Nazeri. There was an older man with darker hair and a beard talking with some of the elders at the side of the dais. Kenma was pretty sure that was Robert Nazeri, the head of Dynami. It was strange being in the same room as two tribal leaders, even if one was his own.

Ichitaka looked up, gaze locking onto Kenma's. Kenma wanted to look away. Nanites flashed red in Ichitaka's eyes, making Kenma freeze in place. For a second he was worried. When he'd been a young child, garnering attention from anyone in authority had been close to deadly. He wasn't there any longer, though; he was years and miles away from that place. Here, he had been part of one of the winning teams, so it wasn't that surprising that he was attracting a little bit of attention.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

After a moment Ichitaka looked away, allowing Kenma to relax. A hand on his back made him look up. Fukunaga raised an eyebrow in question, and Kenma shrugged.

Maybe Nekomata wouldn't mind if he went outside. Well -

He probably couldn't escape quite yet.

Fukunaga handed him a glass of water and the handheld that Kuroo had confiscated earlier, making Kenma smile in appreciation.

Moving between Kenma and the crowd, Fukunaga guided them towards a corner, giving Kenma space to relax.

He was too good sometimes.

Kuroo was glancing over at him again, a soft, encouraging smile on his face. It made Kenma scowl, glancing up to find Fukunaga looking at him with that same indecipherable look on his face. That made Kenma uncomfortable again, ears feeling strangely warm. The only good thing about the feeling was that it helped to distract him from the fact that he was surrounded by strangers.

His attention was caught by an icon popping up on his handheld. Tilting his head, he looked past Fukunaga to Nekomata, then back at his handheld.

Opening the message, he frowned. "They want me to do a one-on-one match," Kenma said. "Evidently we didn't showcase my fighting skills enough for their liking."

Fukunaga snorted, his fingers a flicker of motion as he cupped the air between his hands, then turned one of his hands over and pressed thumb and forefinger together. 

Chuckling, Kenma answered, "I don't think there will be any funerals today. I'm not that reckless - and yes, I am rested enough."

Kenma wondered if that was what the look Fukunaga had given him earlier had been about. Probably. Relaxing, he rocked on his feet, anticipation running through his veins. 

He liked hand to hand combat, and combat with swords was even better. A sudden thought sobered him - Ichitaka's family had been slaughtered with a blade. It was rumored the men guarding them weren't very skilled in the art. 

That made this more than a simple exhibition. 

No one would accuse Nekoma of not being skilled with swords, though. Some leaders considered the art outdated and unimportant. Not Nekomata. Kenma and Kuroo had started late to the art, but Naoi had spent hours training them to swordplay. Nekomata considered it the foundation of all other combat skills, and Kenma had come to believe the same. 

He couldn’t last as long as Fukunaga or Tora in a fight, but normally it didn’t matter. Naoi had worked with him to develop a style uniquely designed to fit his limitations. It held up rather well against his teammates; he was curious to see whether or not it would hold up against his next opponent.

Fukunaga pat his back and gave him a thumbs up. 

Kenma walked toward Kuroo, drawing his attention away from the women he had been talking to. All it took was a look before Kuroo was taking his leave of the women and falling in line with Kenma and Fukunaga, glancing down at Kenma’s handheld to see what was happening. 

“Good?” Kuroo murmured, fingers reaching out to brush nonexistent lint from Kenma’s shoulder.

Kenma nodded. “Hopefully they have a blade that will work. It won’t be as good as the ones from home -”

Then Naoi was there, sliding through the crowd to hold out a familiar black bag. Kenma's swords. The weight of them sliding into his hands helped to ground him, made him realize he was actually ready for this.

“The guy you’re fighting is one of your opponents from earlier,” Naoi said. “He made a reckless comment that you only won because of Fukunaga, and one of Lord Ichitaka’s men overheard. They gave Nekomata the option to ignore the slight or interpret it as a challenge.”

Well, that explained it. Kenma just nodded though. Nekomata knew all of the variables well enough that Kenma trusted he wouldn’t ask him to do this without the strong expectation that he would win.

There were advantages to often being underestimated.

Fukunaga tapped him on the shoulder when his opponent came into view, hands curling together in subtle movements. He recognized the man, and Fukunaga signed that he'd run into him before, said his name was Higashi something. He was full Dikastis but was probably tired out from the earlier fight. He was also a bit of a blowhard, always talking.

That made Kenma huff a laugh. Fukunaga often thought people talked too much. 

Black-cloaked guards led them from the main room into a side hall, where a combat circle had been laid out in the center of the room. There was already a raised dais at the far end with six chairs. Nekomata went to one, sitting down while Yaku and Naoi took spots behind him. Another Dikastis elder took a seat on the opposite end, nodding respectfully to Nekomata. Ichitaka, the Nazeris, and another man with a Kingdomtide uniform came in and took the middle seats.

Again, Kenma felt the weight of Ichitaka’s gaze. 

He felt instinctively this was a man he could dedicate his life to. Instincts were a tricky thing for Alephians, though - dedication to their tribal leaders were encoded into the nanites that helped give them life. Still, Kenma fancied that what he read from the man went beyond simple tribal loyalty. 

Nodding respectfully, he pulled his swords from his bag and handed it off to Fukunaga, checking the blades. His main sword was a bit longer than the secondary one, both made of a hardened steel alloy that had survived countless missions. They weren't anything fancy, but they were serviceable. Satisfied with his inspection, he slid the sheaths into place in his belt before striding into the circle and taking his place at one side Higashi did so as well, and they bowed to each other before turning and bowing low to their Lord. Behind them, the crowd went silent.

Ichitaka raised his fan, and then snapped it down.

Kenma drew his swords.

Higashi was taller than him, with a longer two-handed sword and a better reach. He was, of course, quick and fierce. That was to be expected. 

A longer sword meant more weight. It also meant more power if he got a hit in, but Kenma didn’t intend to let him. His own two swords were shorter, but he liked the balance of having one in each hand, extensions of his arms as he danced away from his opponent’s blows.

The man did talk too much.

Taunts, challenges, words questioning Kenma’s parentage - all easily dismissed. He’d found long ago that silence was unnerving to the people he fought. True, it was Fukunaga who’d taught him that, but he’d use every advantage he could get if it led others to make mistakes.

He carefully worked his way to the center of the circle, sliding to the side whenever Higashi tried to push him back. In that way he managed to minimize his own movement while forcing the other man to dance around, draining his energy. It wouldn’t be enough - full Dikastis stamina was a terrifying thing - but Kenma had become adept over the years at conserving his energy.

Living with Kuroo for a lover made that a requirement.

Every move Higashi made helped him to learn his style, as well. Fast, blunt, a bit reckless and becoming moreso by the minute - it seemed evident to Kenma that the man was more used to forms of combat other than swordplay. Higashi made simple mistakes that Naoi had drilled out of them years ago, allowing Kenma to dart in and come close to landing a hit before retreating to safety. 

Normally Kenma wouldn’t actually care about a fight’s outcome, at least not directly. He always did his best, always wanted to make Kuroo and Nekomata proud, but that was normally the extent of his motivation. This fight, however, was interesting. It wasn’t that Higashi was a truly bad fighter. The way he fought made Kenma want to swear his basic fighting technique was hand to hand combat; the form of his movement in retreat was evidence enough for that. Figuring out how to beat him was a puzzle.

An interesting puzzle.

A puzzle that Kenma couldn’t waste his time solving. Even if he was good at managing his energy, it would run out eventually. 

Pursing his lips he decided to stop being carried away by the intellectual challenge of the fight and come up with a strategy to win. That only took a couple more feints, dancing away from blows and deflecting the heavier sword to the side while he slid away. Then he had it.

Changing the weight on his feet he went on the attack, distracting Higashi with his main sword before letting the smaller one curve up and around. The length of Higashi's sword was no help against an opponent close in. In fact, it became somewhat unwieldy, especially when Kenma could fend it off with one hand while closing in with the other. The man danced back out of danger, narrowly avoiding the slice of a sword tip to his chin. Pressing his advantage Kenma ducked again, jumping as he tapped the hilt of his main sword against the other man’s blade, driving it down and out before swinging his other sword down towards the man’s side.

Higashi was fast enough to avoid the cut, but in so doing fell right into Kenma’s trap.

A gong rang and the man cursed, looking down at his back foot. It had stepped outside the circle.

Kenma stepped back, placing his swords in guard position before glancing over at Ichitaka. His opponent turned as well, lowering his sword respectfully. Kenma saw that his hands were gripping the hilt tightly, but that was to be expected after a loss like this.

It was altogether possible that Ichitaka would call for the best two out of three. Robert Nazeri had leaned forward and was murmuring something into his ear. Ichitaka’s expression didn’t change, he just studied Kenma with a steady gaze. Kenma wondered what he saw. Wondered if Ichitaka knew that the moves he’d just pulled off were things he could only accomplish once, maybe twice more. If he forced Kenma to fight again, Kenma might have to do more than just drive the other man out of the circle if he wanted to win. It wasn’t ideal. For all his bluster, Higashi seemed like an honorable man.

If Nekomata wanted him to go that far, however, he would do it.

Coming to a decision, Ichitaka dropped the fan in his lap. He turned to Nekomata and said, “I thank you for indulging my earlier request. It is, I admit, a bit nostalgic to see a match such as this. It is one of the highlights of my visits back to this, my home.”

Kenma’s opponent sighed, sheathing his sword. Kenma did the same, turning back to the man as they bowed to each other before turning to walk back to their respective sides.

There were more words exchanged between the people on the dais, phrases like the shadows of their speakers' true intentions, but Kenma didn’t hear them. He was too busy being folded into the crowd of his teammates and some of their supporters, hearing other people murmur about how impressed they’d been with his fight. Kuroo engaged them, and Fukunaga slid hands over Kenma’s back and shoulders, squeezing gently as Kenma watched the floor.

He was exhausted.

Fukunaga pressed fingers into his upper arms, twitching in a rhythm that told a story. Just a few more minutes. He could do this. He couldn’t collapse here, couldn’t show signs of weakness right now even though he felt the drop approaching. He could hold out a little while longer. Put on the front of just being stoic and quiet, let everyone believe he could’ve gone three or four more rounds with the other man. 

Glancing down at his handheld, he saw a message from Naoi.

“Kuro,” he murmured, knowing he’d gotten his lover’s attention instantly. “I’m going to go shower up. We have a visitor arriving at the house, and Nekomata wants to be on the train back home in half an hour.”

“Alright,” Kuroo said, nodding and glancing up at Fukunaga. “You two go get cleaned up, and we’ll meet you out in a few.”

Fukunaga didn’t need a shower. He’d already cleaned up after their earlier exercise.

It wasn’t something that Kenma was going to argue, though. 

He managed to make it to the locker room before his legs gave out on him. Fukunaga was there, hissing disapproval as he helped Kenma limp toward the shower. The noise of the doors opening behind him made Kenma turn and frown, staring into the Higashi's face who’d fought him.

His opponent's eyes widened in surprise, and one of his companion’s faces twisted in slight disdain. 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Higashi said, knocking a fist back into his friend’s chest.

“You didn't,” Kenma said, a bit confused by the statement. “I’m just getting washed up.”

“Ah,” the man said. “I am Higashi Gorou. I just wanted to say that it was an honor to fight you.”

“And you as well,” said Kenma, managing to stand and make another bow. Higashi’s companion still didn’t look happy, but Kenma didn't find it difficult to ignore him. “Kenma. Kozume Kenma, of Nekoma.”

“Yes,” Higashi said.

For a moment things felt awkward, then Fukunaga tapped his shoulder.

“Ah, sorry,” Kenma said, ducking his head. “I need to get cleaned up. We have to go back soon.”

“That’s too bad,” said Higashi, giving him a rueful smile. “Perhaps we can spar later. That fight made me realize that I’m a bit rusty when it comes to swords.”

“Swordplay is fundamental to the art of a fighter,” Kenma said, the words automatic at this point. Naoi had drilled the statement into all of them. 

Higashi’s friend snorted, but Higashi quieted him down before turning back to Kenma and Fukunaga. “Considering how deftly you finished us off earlier, I can see where that may be good advice to consider,” he said. “I look forward to facing you again. Perhaps then, I can show you how I have improved.”

“I look forward to it,” Kenma said, bowing again.

Returning the bow, Hikashi turned and left.

Fukunaga huffed, all but dragging a suddenly-limp Kenma into the shower and tugging at his yukata.

“Yes, yes,” Kenma grumbled, tugging it off and letting Fukunaga set his swords to the side before stepping out of the fabric. He pulled his underwear off as well, moving to the shower and starting up the hot water before leaning against the tile wall.

He was surprised when he looked over to see that Fukunaga had climbed in after him.

“You took a shower earlier?” Kenma asked, furrowing his brow.

Shaking his head in amusement, Fukunaga flicked his fingers before tugging on Kenma’s shoulder and reaching over to the built-in soap dispenser. 

It made Kenma want to grumble even more. He wasn’t that far gone - ok, well maybe he was, but Fukunaga still should’ve trusted him not to collapse in the shower. The hands on his shoulder and smoothing down his back were slightly disconcerting, reminded him of his questions about the way Fukunaga had looked at him earlier. It wasn't a big deal, though. They’d washed up together before; they were teammates after all. There’d been a time or two on missions when one or the other had been sick and no one else was around to take care of them. Kenma tried to justify this as something like that. He was utterly exhausted, after all. 

Fukunaga’s hands were different than Kuroo’s hands.

He didn’t press as hard as Kuroo did. Then again, Kuroo knew how much he could take. It wasn’t that he wasn’t gentle at times, but he also believed in pushing Kenma when Kuroo thought Kenma needed to be pushed. They both knew Kenma felt better after a thorough massage. 

He also wasn’t as teasing as Kuroo could be, testing boundaries until Kenma indicated if he was in the mood for something more. Fukunaga wasn’t like that. He really was just cleaning Kenma up, firmly moving Kenma’s arms up and out of the way as he washed his skin, not hesitating on his hips or stomach or chest like Kuroo would. 

Kenma wasn’t sure how to interpret his mild disappointment at this. It was probably that his body craved the teasing because Kuroo spoiled him so much. It probably didn’t have anything to do with Fukunaga himself. Well, other than the fact that Kenma felt safe enough with him to let him do this.

So troublesome.

He didn’t want to think about it, so he just crossed his hands on the tile wall and leaned his forehead against them, arching his back as Fukunaga’s hands slid down his tired muscles. They did stop for a moment at his waist, and he felt Fukunaga shift like he was looking back. Kenma hadn’t heard anyone come in over the water. He tensed, but then Fukunaga patted him with his thumbs and Kenma relaxed. 

This was fine. He was safe.

Maybe Fukunaga had just turned to look at the clock. After all, he did speed up after that, rinsing Kenma off and leaving him to wash his legs on his own. Just as well. Kenma wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the thought of Fukunaga washing his cock and balls, even just as a friend.

Or his ass.

He scowled at that thought, thanking Fukunaga when he stepped out of the shower and found his friend holding out a fresh yukata for him to wear.

Kenma hefted the bag with his swords over his shoulder and checked his handheld, noting they had just about enough time to get to the station before their train was scheduled to leave. 

_Ready?_ Fukunaga signed, holding the door for him.

Nodding, Kenma followed, breathing a sigh of relief as they left.


	4. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame MysticTrashHeap for the rating change, she enabled me when I asked if I should add Kuroken smut ^_^
> 
> It's part of the plot though! Well, since part of the plot is them working through the idea of an option relationship and what that means. Also just.... intimacy.

“So, you and Fukunaga got along well today,” Kuroo murmured.

Kenma didn’t have the energy to groan a response. He was too busy being pressed down into the mattress by Kuroo’s strong hands, occasionally debating if he should protest at the force of Kuroo’s grip on his sore muscles. It probably wouldn’t do any good. Kuroo knew what he sounded like when things actually hurt and didn’t just ache. 

At least he’d given Kenma a proper bath first. The warmth of the water had seeped into his muscles, getting him nice and relaxed and ready for Kuroo to put him through the wringer. The only true complaint Kenma had right now was that Kuroo was taking his time about getting to the good stuff. Technically he could take charge of that himself, but Kenma was tired. Kuroo should know what he wanted by now. He shouldn’t have to ask for it.

Bringing up Fukunaga at a time like this just made things even more strange.

That, along with Kuroo’s silence as he waited for an answer, made Kenma think about his friend and what had been going on the past few days. It was different between them. Kenma wasn’t quite sure how exactly - it wasn’t that Fukunaga was doing anything new. Not really. He’d always been protective of him, always watched Kenma closely. 

It was just a little more obvious now, like Fukunaga had been holding himself back. 

The biggest change, though, was that Kenma had been paying more attention to Fukunaga. It wasn’t an intentional thing. He couldn’t remember choosing to do it, it just happened. Probably because there was something unknown in his friend’s behavior, something he couldn’t figure out.

Sighing, he turned over, interrupting Kuroo’s massage. “You’re being annoying,” he said.

Kuroo just laughed, which was predictable. “I like it,” he said, settling in on his side and letting his fingers drum a rhythm against Kenma’s chest. “It’s relaxing, knowing I can entrust your well-being to someone else.”

Making a face, Kenma said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He could take care of himself just fine. He didn’t actually need to have someone else spoil him or watch out for him, the way Kuroo seemed to think. Really, most of the time he felt like allowing Kuroo to do those things was more for Kuroo than it was for him. He’d said as much one time, during one of their rare fights, and Kuroo had agreed.

That might have just been Kuroo agreeing to help persuade him, though. His boyfriend was tricky like that.

Turning on his side, Kenma lifted a hand to Kuroo’s cheek, studying his face. Kuroo submitted to the scrutiny with ease, allowing Kenma the time to make sure that Kuroo wasn’t hiding anything. Well, perhaps he was a little bit, because there were some things Kenma still couldn’t quite figure out. He should be able to figure them out. 

He wasn’t stupid, after all.

“You still don't realize, kitten?” Kuroo asked, turning his head and kissing Kenma’s palm.

“Realize what?”

“Hmm,” Kuroo said, sliding an arm around Kenma’s waist and pressing a leg between his knees. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “Why don’t you like me talking about Fukunaga?”

Or not.

“I don't mind,” Kenma said, feeling a bit more exposed than he was comfortable with. 

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not,” Kenma said, starting to pull away.

“Then why is talking about him so hard?”

Fucking Kuroo.

Why did he always have to be right? Well, not always of course, but it was annoying how sometimes Kuroo could see more clearly the things that were right in front of Kenma’s face.

“I.... I don’t know,” Kenma finally admitted, feeling the press of lips against his forehead. 

“Well, why don't we talk about it, then?”

Kenma scowled. “You want to talk about another man while we’re naked?”

Chuckling, Kuroo slid fingers up and down his back, tracing his backbone. “Says the man who likes teasing me about Yaku?”

“That’s different,” Kenma said, cheeks heating up. “You like-like Yaku. You’ve been crushing on him for years.”

“And?”

Kenma shut his mouth and pulled back, giving Kuroo an incredulous look. Kuroo thought -

Thought he -

He and Fukunaga -

His brain was short-circuiting. He pushed Kuroo’s face away with both hands, turning around and curling up into a ball. For once, Kuroo was nice enough to let things go, content to lounge silent behind him instead of teasing him further.

It wasn’t true.

It couldn’t be true.

He - Fukunaga -

Kenma took a deep breath, trying to gain some distance from the situation. He tugged apart what Kuroo had said, and the ways that he had - obviously, now that Kenma knew his thoughts - been pushing the two of them together over the past few days. He also tried to remove the possibility that Fukunaga was attracted to him. Both of those things seemed fairly plausible conclusions to draw considering their recent actions; it at least explained why Fukunaga was acting so weird. And it wasn’t that their feeling weren’t important to consider. 

But first.

First, Kenma needed to figure out how he felt.

Was he attracted to Fukunaga?

He thought of his friend’s personality, the gentle silence and cutting humor that always made Kenma happy. Fukunaga was smart too, and protective, and good at filling in the gaps when Kenma was weak. The only person that knew him better than Fukunaga was Kuroo. Well, Kuroo was in a class by himself, really - but that was a given.

Fukunaga’s body was also something that Kenma had to admit he’d admired. All long lean muscle and power. It wasn’t that different than Kuroo’s in a strictly physiological sense, but they moved differently. Kuroo was more open in the way he faced the world, aware of everything and reacting accordingly. Fukunaga, on the other hand, seemed more closed off. In reality, Kenma knew he was taking everything into account as well, but when he responded it was with pinpoint accuracy. 

Was Kenma curious about what it would be like to know what that felt like in bed?

Maybe.

He sighed as he admitted that to himself, and felt Kuroo reaching out, fingers ghosting down his backbone. It was always so annoying when Kuroo was right. 

The idea of curling up with Fukunaga was appealing too, he had to admit. They had to an extent before, but there was always a distance between them, and it was normally shared with Tora. Not that Kenma didn’t find Tora attractive as well - ok, that was a totally different thought, and one he wasn’t quite ready to confront at the moment.

Figuring out he was, in fact, crushing on one of his best friends was bad enough, he didn’t need to know he fancied all of them. 

Well, not Lev. Or Inuoka. Which left -

He decided to focus.

“Sometimes you’re really bothersome,” Kenma muttered at last.

Laughing softly, Kuroo slid his hand around Kenma’s waist and gathered him back into his chest. “I just love you,” he whispered, kissing the back of Kenma’s neck. “Love you and want you to be happy, the way you want me to be.”

“You don’t have -” Kenma started, catching his breath and scrunching up his face. He turned over, staring into Kuroo’s eyes again, wanting to make sure this was really ok. “You seemed hesitant, before.”

“That’s just because I’m greedy, kitten,” Kuroo murmured, nuzzling his nose. “But I don’t need to keep you all to myself to keep you.”

“Because you’ll always have me,” Kenma said.

“I’ll have whatever you’ll give me,” said Kuroo, rolling them so that Kenma was on his back. 

Kenma thought about it, lifted his hands and ran his finger through Kuroo’s hair as he thought about what he wanted that night. His hands drifted down to Kuroo’s neck, tapping against his collarbone and watching Kuroo’s mouth open.

“I want to give you what you need,” Kenma replied, fascinated by how Kuroo’s eyes widened in response.

"What do you need, Kuro?"

"You," Kuroo said, "Always you."

Kenma knew it wasn't always. He knew sometimes lately that it was Yaku that Kuroo craved, that it might be other people in the future. But that was alright - he also knew that Kuroo would always want him, need him, come to him if he called. 

Would always be there for him when Kenma needed him, even before Kenma realized his need.

"I love you," he said.

The way Kuroo melted at the words made Kenma wonder if he should use them more often. No, Kuroo knew. 

Kenma smiled.

"I love you too," said Kuroo, tilting his head like he wanted a kiss.

Not yet.

Soon.

Sliding his finger to Kuroo’s lips, Kenma said, “I want to see you. Turn the lights on and get the lube.”

The satisfied sigh Kuroo gave at that was enough to make him feel perfectly warm inside. His body still ached from the earlier fight, even after Kuroo’s massage. Still, just as he had known how to conserve his energy in the fight, he knew how to do so now, and knew Kuroo would indulge him.

Kuroo climbed off of him and moved toward the bedside table, sliding fingers over the lamp so that his body was bathed in a warm glow. Kuroo’s body was a marvel of muscle and skin, with thick bones that Kenma loved to wrap his hands around. Scars littered his chest and arms. Some of them had been there when they had first met, remnants of the run-ins with others that lived on the street. Others had been gained in the two years they’d spent surviving together. Most of them were from training, though; gained in their years at Nekoma.

Kenma cherished every one.

Turning, Kuroo smiled, gaze gentle. He pulled a tube out of the bedside table and offered it to Kenma, ducking his head when Kenma shook his head. “You want me to do all the work?” Kuroo asked.

“I want to watch,” Kenma replied. He turned onto his side, watching to see what Kuroo would choose to do.

He just chuckled, shuffling around so that he was kneeling facing Kenma. “Like this?” he asked. “Or do you want me to turn around?”

“Mmm, I like the idea of watching your face,” Kenma replied. “I can always watch your ass.”

“Rude,” said Kuroo, laughing and spreading his legs wider as he opened the lube, squeezing out a dollop onto his fingers. “Any other requests?”

“Reach around the back with both hands,” Kenma said, “and lift up a bit so I can at least get a bit of a view of your fingers.”

“And my cock?” Kuroo asked, smiling and setting the tube down behind one of his legs.

Glancing up, Kenma said, “If I think it needs attention, I’ll provide it.”

Kuroo shivered at that, just like Kenma knew he would. They’d played around with denial at times, and Kenma knew that most of the excitement of sex for Kuroo was more mental than physical. Most of the time Kuroo was perfectly satisfied just getting Kenma off without worrying about himself.

Still, Kenma loved finding new ways to help his lover lose control, and one of those ways was by taking that very control away himself.

“Start with one,” Kenma murmured, moving closer to Kuroo’s knees. “Just tease the rim, yes, don’t go far in yet. Spread the lube all around and wiggle your finger. Just like that. Can you feel it, Kuroo?”

Kuroo just nodded, breath quickening as he looked down at Kenma. 

It was strange; most of the time, Kenma hated being the center of attention. With Kuroo he wanted everything. This man was as critical to his life as food or water, and he gave himself over to Kenma’s orders without even a question. It was a heady thing. 

“Push deeper,” Kenma murmured, breath ghosting over Kuroo’s knees. “Now, add a second, and hold your wrist with your free hand to help make sure you have space to go deep enough. Good, yes, good.”

He almost wished he’d had Kuroo pull his collar out as well as the lube. It was a necessary accouterment if he wanted to send his beloved deep into his own headspace, to the place where Kuroo was nothing but Kenma’s kitten. To do that properly required more energy than Kenma had available to invest this night, however.

That was fine. He didn’t need pet names to prove how deeply they were connected.

“Your cock is so hard, Kuro,” Kenma murmured, watching it as he debated his own hunger. “It’s dripping. I love how it jumps as you thrust your fingers in deeper. It looks delicious.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo gasped, hips shifting like he wanted to move closer to Kenma’s mouth.

Smirking, Kenma turned his head and placed a short kiss on Kuroo’s knee before brushing the back of his knuckles against the bottom of Kuroo’s cock. “Yes, Kuro?” he murmured, rubbing his fingers together and feeling the wetness of Kuroo’s precum slide between them.

“You’re so cruel sometimes,” Kuroo hissed.

For a moment Kenma thought about debating that, but it was true. Instead, he just said, “Twist your fingers, Kuro. Can you rub your prostate? I’m curious.”

He let his thumb rub against Kuroo’s slit, drinking in the soft whine that left the back of Kuroo’s throat as he did as ordered. Wet. Kuroo was so wet. It made Kenma hungry, but he was a professional at being patient. 

“You look wonderful, Kuro,” said Kenma, dragging the backs of his fingers down the underside of Kuroo’s cock and gently cradling his balls. “Add another finger, will you? I want to make sure everything is perfect when I let you ride me.”

“You’re going to - oh, Kenma,” moaned Kuroo.

“You like that idea? Like the thought of being spread open above me, of lowering yourself down and feeling me push up into you? I’ll make you move though, I’m still sore, but I’ll have my hands free to play with you however I want.”

Kuroo’s cock twitched at that and Kenma didn’t need his words. That was good because Kenma’s own words were already making him excited enough without any help from Kuroo. The precum leaking down his lover’s cock and onto Kenma’s fingers didn’t help any, but Kenma indulged himself, refusing to let his needs get the better of him.

“Please,” Kuroo finally whispered.

Smiling, Kenma rolled over onto his back, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his fingers, tasting Kuroo. The precum was salty and bitter but he didn’t mind. It was Kuroo. “A bit more lube,” Kenma teased, enjoying the way Kuroo was panting with desire now. “Then you can get me ready.”

The lube was applied more quickly than Kenma really wanted, but it was about what he expected. He narrowed his eyes when Kuroo practically lunged to pull the blanket off of him. 

Realizing his mistake, Kuroo slowed down, laughing at himself. “Sorry,” he said ruefully. “I’m just - I’m hungry for you.”

The honesty made Kenma’s heart flutter. It never got old, being together. It would never get old. He shook his head, lips curling. “Are you going under?”

“A bit maybe,” Kuroo admitted, raising his hand to run it through his hair but stopping when he saw the lube-coated fingers.

“You have me, Kuro,” Kenma murmured, reaching up and brushing his fingers over Kuroo’s chest. “You’ll always have me.”

Kuroo leaned into his fingers, placing one hand next to Kenma’s head as he tried for another kiss. 

This time Kenma didn’t refuse. Instead, he slid his arms around Kuroo’s neck, fingers curling into that awful bedhead that he loved so much. He sucked on Kuroo’s bottom lip as Kuroo wrapped lube-coated fingers around his cock, twisting and tugging in a way made perfect by practice. Kenma could do this all night. Kuroo would probably let him.

But Kenma wanted more.

Pulling back from the kiss, he whispered, “I want you, Kuro. I want to feel you wrapped around me, tight and wet and warm. My strong Kuro.”

“Whatever you desire, kitten,” Kuroo whispered, kissing him once more before sliding his leg over to straddle Kenma’s thighs. Sitting up he surveyed Kenma’s body, hand wrapping around both their cocks together. “You look so beautiful like this. Looked so amazing today in that fight. I was scared of course - I always hate seeing you go up against a live blade - but you were grace itself.”

“Romantic,” Kenma chided, fingertips tracing the scars on Kuroo’s biceps.

“For you, always,” said Kuroo, smiling as he raised up and moved forward, shuffling on his knees so that Kenma’s cock was brushing up against the underside of Kuroo’s balls. Reaching around, Kuroo took it in his hand and guided it into his ass, hissing softly as he started to take it in. “You always look so incredible.”

Kuroo was pressure, and tightness, and heat. Reaching up, Kenma slid his hands over Kuroo’s belly, tracing the muscles before curling fingers around his hips. “I don’t know why we’re talking about me looking incredible right now,” Kenma murmured, fighting the urge to thrust.

Sucking in a breath and lowering himself the rest of the way, Kuroo gave a breathless laugh. “You know me, I always want to talk about you,” he said, resting with Kenma balls-deep inside of him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason,” Kenma replied, letting his fingers trace up Kuroo’s sides, pressing against the bottom of his ribcage. “Especially when I’m getting to watch you like this.”

There was nothing Kenma knew that compared to the sight of Kuroo. Kuroo in all his ways. Seductive, and goofy, and sleepy, and wise. Reaching up to cup his lover’s face, Kenma thought of how much he loved this Kuroo, lips pink and cheeks flushed, covered with the lightest sheen of sweat. 

“I got to watch you earlier,” Kuroo whispered, desire pooling in the depths of his eyes. “In the shower, with Fukunaga, letting him put his hands all over you.”

Kenma sucked in a breath and thrust up, shocked out of his self-control for a moment.

“You looked so lovely Kenma, back arched for him. He knew I was watching, too. Looked back to make sure I was alright with it. You know, I thought I might not be? I wanted to see it for myself, know what it would feel like. After watching the two of you together, though, it just makes me happy. He doesn’t love you as much as I do, but I know how important you are to him. I trust him.”

“Kuro,” Kenma gasped, squeezing his lover’s cheek. “Really? You pick right now to tell me this?”

He could feel the heat in his ears and cheeks from even thinking about Kuroo watching him and Fukunaga together. The thoughts bled into what they were currently doing as Kuroo shifted, rocking forward and then back. Bending his legs, Kenma thrust up in time with Kuroo’s movements, unable to tear his gaze away from Kuroo’s eyes.

“I want you to know,” Kuroo said. “Want to make sure you know how sexy you are, how good you looked responding to his hands. Did you know he was half-hard from touching you?”

“Kuro!”

“Who wouldn’t be though,” continued Kuroo, utterly unrepentant as he fucked himself on Kenma’s cock. “Does that bother you, the idea that he got all hot by being able to touch your naked body? The idea that he might be jacking off to thoughts of you right now?”

It was confusing and overwhelming. A part of Kenma thought he should be bothered by it. He was definitely embarrassed, felt terribly exposed by both Kuroo and Fukunaga’s actions. He’d have to make his boundaries clear with Fukunaga. He didn’t like the idea of Kuroo watching without him knowing about it.

The other -

“It’s so unfair,” Kenma growled, reaching up and pinching Kuroo’s nipples until he groaned. “Ambushing me with this, it’s like - fuck -”

“You don’t like it?” hissed Kuroo, leaning back and putting a hand on the bed to help him as he pistoned his hips. “Don’t like the idea of being watched, all sexy? That one of your best friends has wanted you for years, and now feels like he has the green light to act on it? He does, as far as I’m concerned -”

Kenma’s eyes flew open wide. “For years?” he squeaked, wanting to wipe the smirk right off of Kuroo’s lips. He settled for fucking up into him, satisfied as Kuroo’s mouth opened in a pant, eyelashes fluttering.

“Fuck,” Kuroo said, “yes. Years, and I’ve known it, just like you knew about Yaku and I. He’s probably not the only one, either. Tora -”

“Stop,” Kenma growled, reaching out and grabbing Kuroo’s cock tightly.

Kuroo hissed, narrowing his eyes as he studied Kenma’s face. Then he blew out through pursed lips and smiled. “Fukunaga, then.”

Fukunaga had wanted him for years? It was an appealing thought, a surprising thought. Still, the only man Kenma wanted to think about right now was Kuroo. 

Frowning as a thought struck him, Kenma slowed down, hands sliding to hold Kuroo’s hips steady.

“What?” Kuroo gasped, trying to wiggle in his grasp.

“Kuro,” said Kenma.

He looked up into his beloved’s face. One golden eye was covered by the messy dark hair, and sweat matted strands to Kuroo’s forehead. He looked debauched and beautiful and glorious. He also looked...

Skittish.

“Kenma,” whined Kuroo, trying to bounce on his lap.

Pursing his lips, Kenma raised a hand to Kuroo’s cheek, cupping his face. “Relax,” he murmured. “Breathe. You can do this.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Kuroo whispered, “Why though?”

Why indeed. For a brief moment, Kenma worried that he’d misread things, that he was ruining the mood. A longer look into Kuroo’s eyes revealed that he was right, however. 

It was almost like Kuroo’s thoughts were a pendulum. Only days before he’d been questioning how easily Kenma was able to entertain the thought of Yaku and Kuroo together, and now he was babbling about not only Fukunaga but also Tora. “The only thing I need is you, Kuro,” Kenma said, looking up with as much love as he knew how to give. “I don’t want you to think you need to try and figure out ways to make me happy and give a part of yourself away in the process. I’m already happy, you know?”

The look Kuroo gave him was searching, so vulnerable.

Kenma loved him so much.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Kuroo leaned forward, hand sliding down to push Kenma’s hair out of his face. “How did I ever get so lucky,” he murmured.

Lips twitching, Kenma nuzzled into the hand. “You decided to pick up a cat in an alleyway,” he said. “Sometimes cats are good luck.”

“Sometimes a cat becomes my whole world,” said Kuroo, making Kenma feel all fuzzy inside. 

“You’re,” Kenma started, scrunching his nose at the romantic phrase.

“I’m what?”

Kenma huffed. “You’re my world,” he said, feeling pleased with himself as Kuroo’s mouth fell open, eyes going far too emotional for Kenma’s liking. It was true though. He supposed it was ok to say it once in awhile.

After that, they didn’t really need words to say more about how much they loved each other, so Kenma just brought his hand up to Kuroo’s as it lay on his cheek and intertwined their’ fingers, capturing Kuroo’s other hand as well. He moved them so they lay gently on Kuroo’s thighs, squeezing their fingers together.

Kuroo smiled down at him, so soft and open that for the briefest of moments Kenma didn’t want to share him with anyone. That feeling passed though, like a leaf floating down a river. Instead, they just started to breathe in sync, Kuroo rolling his hips as he lifted up, both of them moving together like a boat and the ocean.

It was possible that Kenma could get lost like this, falling into the rhythm of their bodies, their breaths, their heartbeats. This wasn’t about sex anymore, not really. The pleasure was building deep in his belly and his entire skin felt like it was hypersensitive to every touch and movement, but far more of him was focused on the look in Kuroo’s eyes. He wanted this moment never to end, wanted to always stay in this loop of emotion that passed from Kuroo to Kenma and back again, growing stronger and stronger with every thrust. 

Leaning back, Kuroo groaned, tightening his fingers in Kenma’s grasp as he moved faster and faster. 

Kenma read want in his eyes, want and need and pleasure. Precious. Kuroo was so precious. “Good, Kuro?” he asked, thumb rubbing over Kuroo’s knuckles.

“So good,” Kuroo groaned, licking his lips. 

The flush that had covered Kuro’s ears and cheeks earlier had migrated down to his shoulders. Kenma imagined he could see the nanites sparkling underneath, like stars in a crimson galaxy. He was spiraling into that galaxy, falling into a space where he couldn’t tell the difference between where Kuroo stopped and he began. What was that difference, really? Why should there be a line between him and the man who surrounded him, not just physically but emotionally, spiritually? 

He looked down at Kuroo’s cock, licking his lips and wishing he was flexible enough to bring it to his mouth while they were still joined like this. It just looked so red, so needy, dripping onto Kenma’s stomach with each thrust. He could let go of one of Kuroo’s hands and give it attention, could bring their joined hands over and take care of Kuroo, but Kenma loved being the force that grounded his lover as Kuroo arched his back, panting with pleasure as he rode Kenma for all he was worth.

It wasn’t like Kuroo couldn’t get off just from Kenma’s cock, after all.

Well, and his words.

“You look incredible like this, Kuroo, like metal come to life. Shining in the light, your muscles tightening and rolling just under your skin. I could watch you like this forever, but you look like you’re starting to lose it. Are you getting close to the edge, beloved? Speed up for me, fuck yourself harder - fuck - that’s it, fuck Kuro, love you so much -”

Kuroo’s thighs were trembling as he pushed himself up, fingers tightening around Kenma’s hands, pulling at him as a counterbalance to each thrust. 

It was perfect. The pleasure in the depths of Kenma’s being was growing bigger, stronger, sweeter. He forced himself to hold on, planted his feet on the bed and started thrusting up into Kuroo in earnest, drinking in the wordless cries that spilled from Kuroo’s lips.

“That’s it, baby,” Kenma muttered, tossing his head to clear some strands of hair that had gotten stuck to his face. “More, more. I want to see you unravel on me, give me everything you have -”

“All yours,” Kuroo panted, blinking as he looked down. “Always, all yours, Ken -”

“Yes, yes,” said Kenma, drinking in every second of the glorious sight above him. “Come for me, Kuro, coat me with -”

Kuroo cried out, ass tightening almost painfully, body shuddering as he came. 

It was enough to pull Kenma over the edge as well, giving just a few sharp thrusts up into that perfect wet heat before he spilled over, emptying himself into Kuroo’s ass.

They hung there for a moment, hovering at the top of their perfect completion before Kuroo slumped forward, letting Kenma’s cock slide out of his ass as he rested his face on Kenma’s shoulder. 

“So good to me,” Kuroo muttered, nuzzling Kenma’s neck.

It made Kenma smile, and he wrapped his arms around Kuroo, ignoring for the moment the wet sticky heat that surrounded their bodies post-sex. 

Soon enough, though, it started to irritate him, the physical sensations itching against the edge of his desire to stay like this forever. Sometimes he hated that part of him, the part that came between them, that made him need air against his skin instead of the other’s body.

Kuroo was the one who moved first though.

“Love you so much, Kenma,” Kuroo murmured, rolling off him and onto his side, nose scrunching up. 

“What?” Kenma asked, frowning a moment.

“Ass,” Kuroo said, making a face. “And that, you know - uh -”

“Oh,” said Kenma, trying not to laugh. “Well, do what you need to do, then.”

Kuroo nodded, rolling off the bed and grabbing a robe before stalking out of the room. 

Kenma smiled, sliding his toes under the covers and contemplating getting a towel to clean himself off. The thought of cum drying on his skin was not a pleasant one. He could get up and follow Kuroo to the bathroom, take a shower himself. Ugh, but he really didn’t want to move. Exhaustion hit him again, reminding him that he’d exerted himself far more than he’d intended during their lovemaking.

Nibbling his bottom lip, Kenma looked to the side, out the small window near the top of the wall. He couldn’t see much. Just the shape of the next building over in the compound, roof dark against dark in the moonlight. 

“Don’t go to sleep on me,” Kuroo chided, stepping back into the room.

“I’m not,” said Kenma, not bothering to glance over as he continued to study the view. “Just looking for moonlight.”

“I see,” replied Kuroo, affection in his voice. “Someday, I’ll give you all the moonlight you want.”

That made Kenma huff out a laugh, finally turning toward his lover as Kuroo climbed back onto the bed. As expected, he had a wet towel in his hand, which he used to clean Kenma up. “I’m not sure moonlight is useful,” he murmured, sliding fingers into Kuroo’s hair. “Some nights I prefer to be without it. And it seems like it would be rather superfluous in the light of day.”

“It’s still a beautiful thing, though, even if the daylight outshines it,” said Kuroo.

Kenma wondered how he’d managed to turn a random throwaway conversation into a discussion about their love life.

He didn’t ask though, just smiled and chuckled, turning onto his side away from Kuroo and smiling as he felt his lover snuggle up behind him. 

“You should talk to him tomorrow,” Kuroo whispered into his neck. “Or make a move or something.”

“Make a move?” asked Kenma, amused as he shifted, lifting a knee to let Kuroo’s leg slide between his own, getting comfortable.

“You know what I mean,” said Kuroo, nipping his skin. “Start feeling things out.”

Once again, Kenma wanted to remind Kuroo that this was supposed to be about him and Yaku, not Kenma and his own exploration. Still, it was a thought. “I want to tell you everything. Is that alright? Will you be ok hearing about it?”

Kuroo nodded into his neck. “And I’ll do the same.”

“And they’ll both know what we’re doing,” said Kenma. “Open communication. No secrets. We honor everyone, that’s the foundation.”

“Yes,” Kuroo agreed.

Kenma still felt uncertain about taking the chance, but he thought the risks might possibly be worth the rewards. Whatever happened, he would still have Kuroo.

He would always have Kuroo.

So he nodded, feeling Kuroo press a smile into the back of his neck at the motion. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Kenma said, feeling Kuroo’s arm tighten around him.

“Good,” Kuroo replied, yawning. “Now get some sleep.”

Kenma chuckled, nodding again as Kuroo nuzzled against his neck. Ordinarily, he didn’t like following orders like that, but tonight -

Tonight, he was truly exhausted, so he decided to let go and allow sleep to pull him down into dreams.


	5. Inquiry

When Kenma woke up the next morning, the bed was half empty. Well, maybe a bit less than half, because there was a tan and orange tabby cat curled up in the crook of Kenma’s knees instead of his beloved boyfriend. 

Smiling, Kenma carefully moved out from under the covers without disturbing the cat, deciding to let her sleep in. He grabbed his things and went down to their communal shower, thinking about the night before.

Kuroo was too good to him.

Then again, he’d known that for years. Kuroo had picked a defective child off of the street and taken him under his wing - or well, paw - and had never stopped doing his best to make sure Kenma was happy, healthy, and whole.

Not that Kuroo was perfect, of course. And not that Kenma had actually been defective, no matter what the adults that had been briefly in his life had told him.

No.

But still, Kuroo was too good to him.

Standing under the warm water of their communal shower, Kenma contemplated his day. Naoi had messaged him that he had a few days off for research and relaxation before his next mission. That mission was supposed to be something easy anyways, classified double-green. Local to Aleph, probably helping out at the spaceport or something. Offworld brokers always liked hiring Dikastis security for their inbound shipments. Not that Alephians would ever steal from off-worlders, even at the spaceport, especially with Agapaia guards watching. But to off-worlders, Dikastis were superior to Agapaia. Technically in terms of physical capabilities, they were - but none of that mattered on Aleph.

Then again, Alephians did their best to make sure that most off-worlders didn’t really understand what happened on Aleph.

Rinsing off, Kenma smiled. He actually liked New Francisco, the Agapaia town where the spaceport was built. The architecture was new and creative, and no one looked at him funny about his hair. It also had a little cafe near the spaceport that had excellent apple pie.

He wondered who would be assigned as his partner on the mission.

That made his thoughts turn back to Fukunaga. 

Turning off the faucet, Kenma dried himself off, checking his bruises from the day before. Nothing bad, really. There were a few hickeys on his neck that he didn’t remember getting that were darker than the mottled skin he’d gotten during the competition. Trust Kuroo to mark his territory at the same time that he was sending Kenma off to seduce another man.

Well.

It wasn’t like Fukunaga would be going into this blind. 

This.

Drying his hair, Kenma thought over that word. This. He didn’t know what this was. Wasn’t quite sure what he wanted it to be. His heart was beating fast just thinking about it, but it wasn’t like his normal anxiety, not really.

Getting dressed, he pushed his worn robe into the laundry chute and started out toward the main gathering area. Lev and Inuoka were sitting at one of the tables arguing over something on one of the handhelds - probably the latest holovid, they’d been particularly interested in one of the popular romance series lately. Akane was poaching a piece of orange fruit off the breakfast table. Kenma waved at her. Tora’s little sister was finishing up her training and would soon be eligible for missions, something that Tora was not looking forward to at all.

Akane was, though.

She gave him a huge grin as she ducked out of the main area. From everything Kenma had seen on her scores, she would probably be an excellent addition to their group. They didn’t have very many women involved. Lev’s older sister Alisa was a part of their inner circle, but she’d asked Nekomata for permission to study law. He’d been more than happy to oblige.

Too bad, in a way - she was much easier to deal with than Lev.

Keeping that thought to himself, Kenma grabbed an apple and bit into it as he started toward the garden. Fukunaga should have time off just like he did. It was possible he’d be able to catch him relaxing - well, highly probable really, considering they knew each other like the back of their hands. It was just another thing that underscored the idea of him being attracted to Fukunaga, an idea that he was pretty certain was true.

Just as true as the fact that Fukunaga was indeed available.

He was sitting on a bench in the garden next to Kai, a large datapad in their laps. Kai was pointing things out on the screen and Fukunaga was watching. It was hard for Kenma to know if he was actually interested or was just being polite.

Then again, Kai got so passionate about his technical specs that it was hard not to be interested.

Kenma walked up to them, waving at Fukunaga as he glanced up. 

“Hey,” Kai said, giving Kenma a genuine smile. He moved his hand. At first, Kenma thought he was just shaking it out, but then he recognized that their teammate was moving his fingers in a crude approximation of Fukunaga’s sign language. 

Interesting.

“Ah, sorry,” Kai said, pulling his hand close. “I’m a little rusty with that one. That’s the sign for Kenma though, right? With the two fingers curling down?”

“Yes,” said Kenma, still trying to get over his shock. He turned and caught Fukunaga’s attention, asking silently if he’d told Kai the signs for all their teammates. 

Instead of answering, Fukunaga just huffed a laugh, making Kai look at him curiously.

In that instant, Kenma realized something about his older teammate. He took the thought and examined it, wondering if it made a difference in what he was planning to do. Fukunaga was still watching him, though, and not Kai. It was Kenma that Fukunaga had put his hands all over the day before. Wait, was he being - well, not jealous, exactly, just -

He didn’t even have the word, and the thought itself felt so foreign to Kenma that he wasn’t sure what to do with it. It probably was rooted in insecurity, though. Emotions chased each other in his chest, and Kenma frowned, suddenly feeling like he wanted to give the whole thing up if it was going to be this troublesome. Things with Kuroo had never been this hard.

Then again, Kuroo was of bedrock importance to him and vice versa. 

“I was wondering if I could get your help with something later,” Kenma asked Fukunaga.

Fukunaga raised an eyebrow and then nodded. He was smart enough to know that Kenma was speaking out loud more for Kai’s benefit than Fukunaga’s, and probably also knew Kenma’s true meaning lay underneath the words. He looked intrigued, though, which was good.

Excitement thrummed through Kenma’s veins, his chest slightly tight. The full force of Fukunaga’s attention was a heady thing.

How had he not realized this before?

Had Fukunaga really liked him for years?

Was this what most people felt when trying to engage their crush? Flirting, that was what it was called. Flirting and infatuation. It was far different than what he felt with Kuroo, but Kenma thought he probably liked it. In the back of his mind, he was aware that he was still stepping out into safe waters. Would things be different if he hadn’t been so assured that Fukunaga liked him?

Would he still have the courage to move forward, risking rejection?

The thought sobered him, made him glance at Kai with respect.

“If you need to go,” Kai said, “that’s fine. It’s just a silly ship schematic, and we probably won’t even see one of these unless we go on a mission near the Karron empire, since it’s developed from one of their captured vehicles.”

There was warmth on Fukunaga’s face as he looked back at Kai, signing back that it was interesting. 

It let Kenma know that Kai’s attentions might not be one-sided. Thankfully, that thought was more grounding than worrying. He smiled, and said, “I’ll just go reserve one of the practice rooms and warm up. Come by when you’re done here? No rush.”

Fukunaga smiled at him and nodded, flicking his fingers to remind him to stretch before he did anything strenuous.

Feeling bold, Kenma signed back, _Come help me stretch._ Immediately he felt foolish. Who was he to flirt with someone, even Fukunaga? It was almost something he would’ve said to Kuroo, except not. Kuroo rarely needed that much encouragement.

Lips quirking, Fukunaga nodded, watching him for a moment with curious eyes before turning back to Kai.

Bolstered by Kai’s encouraging smile, Kenma turned and walked away. He wondered if Kai had any clue what they’d been discussing. Wondered if he’d soon learn all of Fukunaga’s sign. It would expand their group, mean they’d have to entrust Kai with all their snarky comments. On the other hand, it was a useful communication tool on missions.

Kai was a good guy, too. Quieter than both Yaku and Kuroo, and he tended to fade into the background, but he was smart as a whip and very passionate about his hobbies. One of his mother’s friends had been a Kingdomtide engineer and had helped instill a love of mechanics in the young Kai. That was before he came to Nekoma, of course - his mother had entrusted him to Nekomata’s care before she went on a long mission. Officially she was still listed as Missing in Action, but everyone had accepted the fact that she was probably dead. It wasn’t an uncommon fate. Most of their parents were missing or dead, more often than not because of the dangers of combat.

Someday, they’d probably lose on of their teammates.

It was a sobering thought, and it distracted Kenma from his earlier musings about Fukunaga. He set up the training room and changed into a loose white shirt and pants, carefully folding his regular clothes and putting them on the shelf. 

On some level, he knew they were all at risk. He knew that as they got older they would be asked to take increasingly difficult missions. Kingdomtide wasn’t at war right now so they hadn’t been called out en masse as troops, but the fragile armistice between Kingdomtide and the Karron Empire probably wouldn’t last forever. Kuroo was slated to become the leader of their unit, and Kenma knew he’d probably try to protect Kenma as much as possible when determining assignments, but the thought of any of the others in harm's way worried him.

They weren’t Kuroo, but they were the closest thing he had to family.

He sank into overlapping thoughts as he sat, pulling his feet in and reaching out as he stretched. A hand pressed against his back and made him gasp, turning around to see Fukunaga kneeling behind him.

He hadn’t even heard him come in.

“When did you -” Kenma started, angry at himself for not paying attention. 

Kuroo would kick his ass if he knew he’d let someone sneak up on him. Well, someone other than Kuroo.

Chuckling, Fukunaga held up three fingers and motioned to his own outfit. 

Shit. Kenma had been so deep in his own thoughts that Fukunaga had come in, changed, and then come over. His friend was quiet, sure, but still.

Fukunaga mouthed the word _silly_ at him before sitting down in front of Kenma, letting their knees touch. Turning a hand up, he motioned to the room and tilted his head to the side.

Pursing his lips, Kenma thought about it. “Kind of,” he finally said. “I mean, we have planned to run through those figures you picked up from the Adeiazo hermits at some point.”

The Adeiazo was the most insular of the Aleph tribes, and had the guiding principle “emptiness.” Fukunaga had visited the one shrine they let open to outsiders the previous spring, spending a month working with them to gain a deeper understanding of their principles. The hermits’ vow of silence didn’t phase him, and he came back even more centered than usual. He’d explained some of the misconceptions about Adeiazo philosophy to Kenma but they hadn’t yet explored the more physical exercises.

The look Fukunaga gave him seemed to say without words that he didn’t fully believe Kenma’s intentions, but he didn’t question further. He just helped Kenma finish stretching while Kenma did the same for him, then stood and walked into the center of the room.

Teaching each other positions was something comfortable. Naoi’s teaching style encouraged students to each deep dive into a particular discipline and then come back together and teach each other what they’d learned. He watched, of course, made sure they perfected the forms, but a large part of their skill acquisition came from the little corrections he gave them as they shared. Then it was just repetition after repetition until they knew the movements in their bones. Kenma enjoyed it. They’d each focused on a fighting style that was best suited to their own preferences and body type, but had drawn from the crossover and even developed hybrid moves unique to their group. As the years went by, they layered more and more styles into their forms as needed, taking ownership their own internal power.

Adeiazo’s discipline was just another form in the same vein. Fukunaga liked the powerful styles that appeared deceptively slow until the moment of impact. He demonstrated the basic forms first, allowing Kenma to copy him and then correcting the small errors Kenma made.

It should have been easy.

In many ways, it was. Nothing about the beginning forms were hard. That was normal; the difficulty came in the combinations and mastering which form was used in response to a specific threat. The problem wasn’t the forms, though - it was Fukunaga.

Two fingers here, lifting Kenma’s elbow. A tap on his shoulder to lower it. Hands on his waist, shifting it slightly. The huff of Fukunaga’s breath as he knelt down to fix Kenma’s footwork. The way his fingers curled around the back of Kenma’s calf, fingertips brushing behind his knees in a way that almost made his loose pants inconvenient.

He wasn’t supposed to be so sensitive to these things. It was still just Fukunaga, after all.

Fukunaga who was looking up at him, gaze calculating as he leaned forward, pulling Kenma off balance until he had to reach out and steady himself on Fukunaga’s shoulders as they both sank toward the floor. The fall was in slow-motion, controlled as Fukunaga’s hands came up and steadied his thighs, letting Kenma end up on his side on the mat. 

“What was that for,” Kenma huffed, finger smoothing down the shoulder of Fukunaga’s shirt.

A quirked eyebrow was the only response.

It hit home to Kenma then, that they were alone, with no one watching, lying facing each other in the middle of a private training room. A training room that was locked to most other entrants. Kuroo knew his passcode of course, as did Naoi, but they would only use it in emergencies.

They were alone.

For a few minutes, the only noises in the room were the sounds of two breaths, slow and steady, one faster than the other until they both began to fall in sync. Fukunaga was just watching him, and Kenma watched back. 

He hadn’t known, really, how beautiful Fukunaga was. Hadn’t spent hours studying his profile. He wondered if Fukunaga had watched him, had seen the subtle changes in his face as he lost what baby fat he’d had and grown into his jawline. He remembered teasing Fukunaga about knobby knees and wrists when his friend shot up in height. Remembered how Tora had complained about growing pains, with Fukunaga agreeing and sneaking painkillers to help himself get to sleep.

Kuroo had always made sure Kenma had what he needed to get to sleep.

There was a light dusting of freckles on Fukunaga’s cheekbones. His lips were smooth, not chapped like Tora’s. His ears were slightly pointed. Kenma reached out, curious about all the things he was noticing. He hesitated though.

Fukunaga tilted his head forward. It wasn’t enough to connect him to Kenma’s hand, but it was enough to let Kenma know the motion was not unwelcome. 

Indulging himself, Kenma traced along the shell of Fukunaga’s ear, startled by Fukunaga’s soft exhalation of breath. Amused, he tugged gently at Fukunaga’s earlobe.

There was a soft huff of laughter from his friend, and then Fukunaga’s hand was pressing lightly against Kenma’s chest. 

Curious, Kenma let himself be pushed onto his back, resting his arms up and out of the way as Fukunaga looked down at him. It was thrilling. He knew they were straying into the realm of actions that were not at all innocent. It was impossible for him to ignore the hunger in Fukunaga’s eyes as they traced over his body, fingertips following the same path, tugging at the loose collar of Kenma’s shirt.

Then Fukunaga suddenly pulled back, placing his hands on his knees as he sat, looking down at his lap.

Kenma frowned, curling onto his side and pushing up onto his knees. “Fukunaga?” he asked. When there was no response, he swallowed and tried again. “Shouhei?”

Fukunaga’s hands twitched at that, flicking a soft apology.

“Don’t be sorry,” Kenma muttered. His own hands were shaking, he found. He opened his mouth to continue, then caught his breath, tilting his head to the side. Instead of speaking, he thrust his hand out so that it hovered over Fukunaga’s lap. _I want you_ he signed, refusing to second-guess himself.

Fukunaga reached out fast as lightning and wrapped fingers around Kenma’s wrist, looking up and searching his face.

Blushing. Kenma was blushing. He felt the heat in his own cheeks, tugged at Fukunaga’s hold and was silently thrilled at the resistance he met before Fukunaga let go.

Immediately Fukunaga’s hands were up, signing a million questions as he continued to watch Kenma’s face for their answers.

“I talked with Kuro,” Kenma said, forcing himself to look Fukunaga in the eye even as a part of him wanted to duck his head. “Well, he talked to me, too. He said he watched us in the shower yesterday?”

Fukunaga tilted his head and gave a little shrug, curling in on himself as he signed another apology.

It was at least a little gratifying that he acknowledged it. As much as he was open - more than open - to the idea of exploring whatever this was between them, he still wanted to be kept in the loop. The thought of Kuroo watching them together wasn’t a bad one, but he didn’t want to be an unwitting party to it. “Next time, if you notice him watching, tell me.”

Blinking, Fukunaga made a small sound, then nodded at the same time as he motioned with another question.

Kenma thought it was probably less than polite how much he wanted to make Fukunaga make more sounds. He caught himself leaning forward and pulled back, biting his lower lip as he glanced at Fukunaga’s hands. Greedy. He was greedy, in a way that was new and felt almost overwhelming. “Yes,” he said, “I’d like there to be a next time.”

Hands stilling, Fukunaga watched him, tilting his head to the side again. 

How he’d never noticed the darkness of Fukunaga’s eyes, Kenma didn’t know. They were large and open, staring at him like he contained all the secrets of the universe. Though there were no more questions signed, Kenma felt compelled to speak anyways. “We’re -” he started, swallowing again as he continued. “Kuro knows, and he’s fine with it, encouraged it actually. And you should know - I mean, Kuro and I, this doesn’t change that. But that doesn’t preclude this, either. I didn’t even know how much I wanted -”

The admission was too much, suddenly, so he stopped. 

Heart pattering in his chest, Kenma looked down at his hands, watching as Fukunaga slowly, carefully, reached out and ran fingertips over Kenma’s upturned wrist. Kenma nodded to Fukunaga’s lightly tapped question, swallowing as Fukunaga slid his hand under Kenma’s and grasped his wrist, pulling so that their hands rested between them. Kenma opened his fingers, watching as Fukunaga traced words on his palm.

 _There’s a line,_ Fukunaga wrote, _that I want to cross with you. A closeness I want to explore, fall into, inhabit together, breath by breath. Beyond sound, beyond words, beyond labels, beyond limits. Just us._

It made Kenma’s breath stop. He had thought that he was used to romantic gestures, having Kuroo as a boyfriend, but this - those words were beautiful, and the strength of Fukunaga’s grasp on his wrist belied a steel beneath that beauty that Kenma found he craved. Curling his fingers around Fukunaga’s, Kenma pulled him closer, looking up into the other man’s dark eyes. Tilting his head to the side, Kenma simply said, “Yes.”


End file.
